


Our Legacy

by strawberry_pills



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Relationships, Established Relationship, F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Manipulation, Not Canon Compliant, Politics, Wizarding Politics (Harry Potter), Women In Power
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:21:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 38,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23225482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberry_pills/pseuds/strawberry_pills
Summary: Set nearly ten years after the war. Hermione had been promised the position of Senior Undersecretary by Kingsley Shacklebolt in return for her help in his reelection as Minister for Magic.But when she was passed over for someone else, she initiates an elaborate plan of manipulation and betrayal to attain revenge, aided by her equally ambitious, power-hungry husband.
Relationships: Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Lucius Malfoy
Comments: 123
Kudos: 279





	1. Hell Hath No Fury

**Author's Note:**

> A House of Cards inspired fic. I've always wanted to see this pairing in a political thriller AU setting.
> 
> This story has no beta and English isn't my native tongue. Apologies in advance for any spelling or grammar mistakes. Ratings, archive warnings, and tags will change as the story progresses.

**[int:[start a war | valerie broussard]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0D7he-TAR34)**

She had just clasped her earring when he appeared behind her in the mirror; his off-white dress shirt was pressed neatly underneath his obsidian black robes while his cravat was tied perfectly around his neck.

"Help me with the zipper," she said and soon felt his cold large hands slide the zipper up.

The action sent a shiver down her spine and she looked up to see him unabashedly leering at her, cold large hands now circled her waist, pulling her close to him. He perched his head on her shoulder as they stared at each other through the mirror. She would have withered under his prowling gaze at one time—a dangerous, notorious Death Eater known to hold a grudge.

Not anymore.

Her days of teenage meekness abruptly disappeared when the second war broke out. A necessity.

"You looked…" Lucius trailed off, thinking of the perfect word to say. He always knew the right words to say. That was one of the reasons why she chose him.

"Beautiful? Ravishing?" Hermione supplied.

"Always. But tonight, you looked like the next Minister of Magic," he smugly said.

She shared a knowing smile with him. "Not yet."

"Hmm. You've done your time. You've backed the right man."

"I know," she stepped outside his embrace and turned around to face him. "But we're at the most crucial stage of the plan. And there can be no mistakes or everything we've worked hard for the last five years would've been for nothing."

"This is going to be a big year for us. One step closer to our goal," Lucius raised her left hand and pressed a kiss to where her wedding ring sat. They've been married for six years and yet, the simple gesture still captivated her.

An act of devotion.

A pledge of loyalty.

"Shall we, my dear?"

Hermione clutched his arm tighter to her chest and soon felt him twisting away with her, her body being pulled in all corners. The soft pop of disapparition echoed across the empty master bedroom, leaving a faint black mist in its wake.

* * *

"I need you to keep that smile up for twenty more minutes," her husband whispered near her ear as Hermione sipped from the champagne flute. His arm was casually hanging around her waist.

"This is going to go on for twenty more minutes?" she asked through gritted teeth as her plump red lips pulled into a passable smile.

"There you go," Lucius smiled at her encouragingly, the kind of smile that reached his eyes, the kind of smile he reserved only for her. "The party should end in about ten and then you need to mingle for another ten. Pose for a photo or two with the Minister and then we can go home."

"Do I at least get to choose who I mingle with?"

"No, but I could steer you away from the unpleasant ones," he teased as he placed a feather-light kiss on her cheek. "As a matter of fact, I can already see one headed our way."

She turned her head a fraction just in time to see Dolores Umbridge waddled her way over to them. "Fuck. What is she doing here?"

"A pitiful attempt at gaining her status back considering she never had any in the first place," he drawled, already sounding bored. He plucked the champagne flute from her hand and dropped it on the tray of a passing server. "Shacklebolt's insane for inviting her here. Do you want me to whisk you away to the coatroom and have my wicked way with you?"

That elicited a snort and a laugh from her. "No, as much as I want you to. I think I can handle the toad."

A few seconds later, they heard someone behind them clear their throat. Husband and wife turned around to see a small round mass of pink atrocity. "Mr. Malfoy, Ms. Granger. So surprised to see you both so cozied up together."

"It's Mrs. Malfoy now. But I guess news doesn't reach you when you're locked away in Azkaban, right, my dear?" she glanced in Lucius's direction and he nodded stiffly. "I'm sure you'll catch up soon."

She gave her a sickeningly sweet smile—all pearly white teeth bared. Thank Merlin her parents are dentists. Hermione took Umbridge's momentary shock as a chance to exit. "I think I just saw Harry waved at me. If you'll excuse us, Dolores. Have a pleasant evening."

She walked away with her head held high, her husband just behind her with his hand on her back. "Nice exit," Lucius said. "Potter wasn't really waving at you, was he?"

Harry Potter, her trusted best friend and beloved brother, was happily exchanging drunk jokes with Neville Longbottom on the other side of the room.

"No, but if I stayed there another second longer, I might have to hex that sanctimonious bitch," she hissed as she wrapped her arms around his while they leisurely walked across the room. "I'm sorry I brought up Azkaban."

"It's perfectly fine, my dear," he squeezed the hand that was curled around his arm. "You have nothing to apologize. No regrets, remember? That was part of our marriage vows."

"I remember. Although I'm starting to regret coming here," they kept walking while Lucius carefully maneuvered them from running into anyone they didn't need to talk to. "If it wasn't for the announcement tomorrow, I would've stayed at home with you."

"That I agree. Oh, there's Kingsley waving at us. Better get that photo op so we can get out of here."

Hermione chuckled and kissed her husband on the cheek. "Let's get this thing over with."

* * *

Hermione Malfoy sat in one of the plush chairs outside the conference room. She received an owl earlier asking her to drop by the Ministry as soon as she can.

It was never stated why but she can only guess that it had something to do with the announcement later.

Theodore Nott popped his head out of the door and smiled at seeing her but Hermione noticed that the smile did not reach his eyes. "Hermione, please come in."

Hermione entered the conference room fully expecting Kingsley to be seated at the head of the table only to find it empty.

"Is the Minister running late?" she asked Theo.

"No, he couldn't make it," he gestured for her to take a seat. "But I'll brief him though."

Something's up, she thought. _I hate being kept in the dark._

"Okay then," donning her professional demeanor, Hermione pulled out a handful of files from the folder she's holding and proceeded to flip through them. "This is the memo I drafted on the ICW policies on Schools and Apprenticeship Program. I think we need a more direct way to frame our—"

"Hermione, I'm going to stop you there," Theo held up a hand and Hermione felt her insides churn. "We're not going to nominate you as Senior Undersecretary."

When she didn't respond, Theo continued, explaining what Hermione thought was the lamest and scripted excuse that ever existed. "I know the Minister made you a promise, but circumstances have changed."

"The nature of promises, Theo, is that they remain immune to changing circumstance," she nearly hissed.

"Shacklebolt has thought long and hard about this, and he's decided we need you to stay in the DMLE."

"When was this decision made?" Hermione clenched and unclenched the papers she was holding in an attempt to calm herself. "And why wasn't I part of the conversation?"

"I'm sorry Hermione. If it had been up to me I would've handled this differently." Theo blinked and looked down at the table and she knew then that he was lying. It's a tell that Lucius pointed out to her when her husband got Theo elected as Kingsley's secretary three years ago. "I wouldn't have waited this long to tell you."

"So you knew you were going to do this," she didn't bother hiding the venom in her voice.

"It's been an evolving discussion," Theo said calmly.

"That's a chicken-shit move," Hermione stood and gathered the papers. She debated for a split second whether to burn it in front of Theo just to make a statement but ultimately decided against it. Now is not the time for theatrics. "Let's be absolutely clear. You wouldn't be sitting here if not for my husband."

"And I'll always be grateful to Mr. Malfoy, but now we have to lead, and that means making tough choices."

Hermione shook her head, "I can't believe you."

But Theo seemed to ignore her statement.

"Now that the remnants of the previous war are behind us, Kingsley wanted to move forward, to strengthen our policies and put up educational reforms. We need you at the DMLE more than we need you here."

Hermione stood her ground. She spent years trying to reach the top only for Kingsley—the same person she helped throughout the years—to bring her down. She would be bullied like this into submission. "I want to speak to Kingsley personally."

"Hermione…" he said resignedly. "The decision has been made."

"Good day, Theo." Hermione turned around and headed for the door.

"We need you Hermione," Theo said, then a tone of warning in his voice. "Are you going to stand beside us or not?"

Hermione turned to face Theo. The two of them stared at each other, weighing, calculating. It felt like a lifetime when it had only been mere seconds. _I will not yield._

Then she smiled. All pearly white perfect teeth. "Of course. If that's what Kingsley wants."

"I'm very glad to hear that."

Hermione suddenly felt the desperate need to flee the room but a thought occurred to her as she touched the doorknob. "May I ask—if not me, then who?"

Theo hesitated for a moment, eyes flickering anywhere but her. "Cormac McLaggen."

"Cormac McLaggen," she let the bitter taste wash over her mouth before spitting it back out. "That's an… excellent choice."

She wanted nothing more than to burn the entire place down along with Kingsley Shacklebolt in it.

* * *

Lucius sat in the library at the Manor, robes discarded, cravat loosened, and the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to his elbows. Stacks of parchments lined the desk but he can't seem to focus on any of it for longer than two seconds. His mind kept drifting to his wife.

It was past eight. She should've owled him or dropped by the office hours ago. And when there was no news of the supposed announcement, he started to worry.

He'd floo called her office but her secretary had told him that she'd taken the day off and left half an hour before lunch.

Potter was next on his list but The Boy Who Lived came up empty-handed.

So he sat there in the library knowing it'll be the first place she'll go to when she arrived. It was a few minutes before nine that he felt the wards shifted and soon heard footsteps.

The doors to the library flung open revealing her wife looking like she'd just dueled Voldemort to death.

"Lucius," she said upon noticing him sitting there.

"You didn't owl," he didn't bother hiding the disappointment in his tone.

"I was—"

"You didn't owl me, Hermione. Nine hours, you don't not owl me. Not when it's this big."

"You're right," Hermione sighed resignedly. Lucius saw her shoulders deflate and he wanted nothing more than to comfort her but that wouldn't accomplish anything. And besides, he felt livid. Not at her, no. But he'll soon find out who he should be angry with.

"Six years of marriage. When have we ever avoided each other?"

Hermione took tentative steps towards him. "I wanted a solution first."

He raised an eyebrow. "Do you have one?"

"Not yet," she stood near him now, beside the side table that's lined with antique Ming vases they purchased at an auction during their second anniversary celebration in Zagreb.

"This affects me too, Hermione," he said in a chastising tone. "We do things together. When you don't involve me, we're in free fall."

When Hermione didn't respond, Lucius urged her. "What happened?"

"He says they need to keep me in the DMLE," she muttered.

"Shacklebolt said that?"

"No, Theo did. Kingsley wasn't even there," she spat as her voice started to rise higher. "That's what really gets me. He didn't have the courage to look me in the eye—"

"So they lied to your face," Lucius growled.

"For months."

"And you didn't see it coming?"

"I never thought they were capable," Hermione ran a hand through her tamed curls that used to be so wild.

Lucius folded his hands under his chin and leveled her with a look. "You usually don't underestimate people, Hermione."

"I know," she shook her head. "Hubris. Ambition."

"You should be angry."

"I'm livid!" she screamed across the room. Lucius could see sparks of her magic flowing through her body. In another time, this would've evoked something within him but right now, all he could feel was anger that nearly matched hers.

Lucius then gestured to her, "Then where is that? I don't see the anger."

"You want to me lash out at Kingsley? At Theo?" Her voice kept rising an octave higher. "You want me to go to the press and make a mess of something I can't change?"

"I want more than what I'm seeing. You're better than this, Hermione."

"Well, I'm sorry, Lucius," she threw her hands up in defeat. "I am sorry."

"No," his tone cold. "That I won't accept."

"What?" Hermione snapped.

"Apologies."

He looked hard at her. If he was any other wizard, he would've smothered her with sympathy, but not him, no. He knew that's the worst thing he could do for a witch like Hermione.

She was about to say something but Lucius cut her off with a wave. "My wife doesn't apologize, even to me."

He walked out of the library and as soon as he closed the door he heard a crash inside. He said a quiet prayer to Merlin that the Ming vases would survive his wife's wrath.

* * *

Lucius barely slept that night. He glanced at the empty bed beside him, the early morning light seeping through the slits of the drapes. He took his time grooming himself ad then asked Winky to bring him two cups of freshly brewed tea. Half an hour later, he made his way down to the library.

He found her standing by the window, staring at the newly trimmed bushes of their garden with a cigarette in one hand. The Ming vases were set to rights, probably by the house-elf.

Lucius approached her and placed a cup of tea on the windowsill in front of her.

"Did you sleep?" she asked not looking up at him.

"Barely."

Lucius watched as Hermione took a long drag, watched as the smoke went up and disappeared above her. "I know what I have to do," she finally said tilting her head to meet his piercing grey eyes.

"Of course you do."

"We'll have a lot of nights like this," she took two steps towards him. "Making plans, very little sleep."

"That doesn't worry me," he smirked. In fact, he loved it. Despite claiming to be a reformed wizard, Lucius still missed all the plotting and manipulation he did back during Fudge's term. He can already feel his insides vibrate with excitement.

He closed the distance and kissed her, slow and languid. When they pulled apart, Hermione handed him the cigarette and he took a long drag as well.

"I should get to work," she said as she downed the tea in one gulp.

"I already asked Winky to prepare your things."

She looked up at him. Her eyes seemed to convey everything she needed to say. Lucius raised her left hand and placed an open-mouthed kiss on each of her knuckles.

An act of devotion.

A pledge of loyalty.

_A declaration of love._

"I'm going to destroy them all."


	2. Sympathy for the Devil

**[int:[raise hell | dorothy]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rmYyPcEQKU4)**

Penelope Clearwater sat in her office holding a cup of coffee. Today's print of the Daily Prophet was sprawled across her desk.

"What do you think they want with her?" she asked Blaise Zabini who was busy pacing in front of her as he sorted through the mail.

"We're too good. They can't afford to lose us here in the DMLE," he muttered.

Penelope flicked through the next page where a larger photo of Cormac McLaggen was displayed on the right side of the paper. "Do we say anything?"

"No. Fuck, no," Blaise dumped some of the letters in the trash and kept the important ones. "Not unless she brings it up."

"Maybe the Wizengamot won't confirm him," she mused.

"Oh no, they'll confirm him. Shacklebolt is riding high. It's not worth the political capital. They'll save the big guns for legislative battles."

Penelope pondered that for a moment. "Hey, Blaise—"

The wizard looked up just in time to see Hermione striding in from the main door, her stilettos clicking with a purpose. Blaise grabbed a folder and he and Penelope headed out to intercept her.

"Penelope, I want you to cancel every meeting I have for the rest of the day," Hermione said as she continued to power walk to her office. "Blaise, you're with me."

Blaise tossed a glance to Penelope only to see that she's already heading back to her desk. He tucked the folder under his arm and proceeded to follow Hermione to her office.

Penelope opened her notebook containing her boss's schedule and sighed. She had to talk to at least eleven people today.

She'd been working for Hermione for nearly seven years and she'd never seen her this furious, not even when her ex had stormed in the office and fought with her husband six years ago. She could practically feel waves of anger emanating from her body.

Penelope knew that her boss had worked so hard the past couple of years just to get where she is now. She'd been eyeing the position of Senior Undersecretary since the campaign started and had supported Kingsley Shacklebolt's reelection from the get-go.

Yesterday clearly didn't go well for her. Hell hath no fury like a woman betrayed.

Penelope leaned back in her chair and pinched the bridge of her nose. "This is going to be a very interesting year."

* * *

Blaise Zabini watched as his boss gripped the edge of her desk, her knuckles turning white at the force. Hermione could probably break it if she exerted more pressure but he wasn't going tell her that. His mind was too busy processing all the information she'd given him.

"So you'll still work with them?" he finally asked.

"Only by face," Hermione said as she let go of the desk and started pacing the carpeted floors of her office instead. "They've done us a great favor, Blaise. We're no longer bounded by allegiances. We can speed up the timeline now."

"Shacklebolt and Theo?"

"All of them," she said with an eerie calmness that sent a chilling sensation through his spine. "I hold them all accountable."

It was in that moment that Blaise realized he wasn't talking to Hermione Granger anymore—one-third of the golden trio, the brave Gryffindor who fought at the final battle at Hogwarts, and esteemed head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement—but rather to Hermione Malfoy—wife of notorious Lucius Malfoy, the one who jinxed Marietta Edgecombe's face for her betrayal, who lured Dolores Umbridge into the Mysterious Forest, and the one who dared to impersonate Bellatrix Lestrange as they infiltrated Gringotts during the second war.

"Retribution?" he asked with an edge of excitement in his voice.

"No," Hermione shook her head. A few strands of her curls falling. "No. It's more than that. Look at the bigger picture, Blaise."

Blaise thought for a moment, the cogs in his brain turning. "I can see where you're getting at. McLaggen first?"

"Cormac's not the sharpest knife in the rack, but he's not dull either. He knows I was up for the nomination and he knows I must be jealous," Hermione tapped a finger under her chin before smirking. "But he doesn't need to know the danger he's in. Let him bask in the limelight for now. I'll sharpen my blade in the dark and he'll still be smiling when I slit his throat."

Blaise visibly shuddered at the image and nearly raised a hand to his throat. "Who would you want for Senior Undersecretary?"

"We'll go through potential candidates. I want you to prepare me a list. And we'll need a buffer. In case we need to distance ourselves."

"An errand boy?"

Hermione nodded. "A lost child. Somebody we can save from himself."

"I'll keep my ear to the ground. Have you heard what's on the Minister's legislative agenda?"

"Education most probably," Hermione shrugged. "Integration of Muggle Studies for first years, things like that. Theo hasn't told me yet who's drafting it but I'm guessing it's Elphias Doge."

"Isn't he a pureblood? Shouldn't they approach someone else?" Blaise narrowed his eyes. "Why haven't they approached you?"

"I don't know, but Elphias Doge is a well-known Muggleborn sympathizer so everyone's turning a blind eye. Reach out to some of your contacts and let me know if something comes up," she said as she sat back to her desk.

Hermione was about to dismiss Blaise when the doors to her office swung open revealing one angry Harry Potter. "What the bloody hell was he thinking?!" he screamed across the room. "Cormac fucking McLaggen!"

She exchanged worried looks with her chief of staff. Blaise immediately pulled out his wand and cast silencing charms all over the room.

"Calm down Harry. It's okay—"

"It's not okay!" he seethed. "He's a self-righteous, arrogant prick! He's even worse than Malfoy!"

Hermione snorted at that. "I'll appreciate it if you would refrain from comparing my husband to McLaggen."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I was actually talking about his son. But seriously 'Mione, aren't you the least bit pissed? He promised you that position for ages!"

She saw Blaise nod his head in agreement out of the corner of her eye. "I am… disappointed with the decision. But we have to trust Shacklebolt."

Her best friend of nearly two decades looked at her suspiciously before cocking an eyebrow in question. "You're planning something," he glanced at Blaise then back to Hermione. "I know that look, Hermione. That's the same look you had when you suggested we brew Polyjuice Potion back in second year. You're not the type of person to just let things slide."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Harry," Hermione smiled sweetly at him.

"Hermione, this is different. We're not kids at Hogwarts anymore," Harry cautioned her. "Let me talk to Kingsley first."

"They've already announced it, Harry. There's nothing you can do about it," Hermione went over her desk and gave Harry a tight hug. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

"It's them I'm worried about," Harry sighed as he hugged her tighter. He pulled back and gave her a sheepish smile, one that showed his dimple. "Sorry for barging in your office unannounced."

"You're always welcome here and in the Manor. You're family, Harry."

"Well, I better get back to my office then. I have a meeting with Robards in a few minutes," he gave Hermione's hand a gentle squeeze before leaving. "Zabini," he nodded in Blaise's direction.

"Potter," he returned the gesture. Blaise turned his attention back to his boss as soon as the door closed. "You want to keep him out of it?"

"I love him but Harry always has trouble keeping his mouth shut. It's better this way. If everything falls apart, at least he'll be spared," she plopped back into her chair. "Have Penelope bring me lunch. I just realized I haven't eaten since yesterday."

Blaise took it as a dismissal and left the room, smirking as he closed the door. He hadn't felt this excited since the last Quidditch battle between Slytherin and Gryffindor during his sixth year.

* * *

Lucius had spent the majority of the morning in one conference room or another. He vaguely paid attention to different advisors argue the best way to move his money around. He already knew. He'd been moving money around for years on his own.

His support at Kingsley's campaign left a sizeable dent in his vault although he didn't mind as long as it gets his wife one step closer to her goal. But when the Minister broke his promise to Hermione yesterday, he had also severed whatever connections he had with the Malfoys.

And now his wife is out for blood and Lucius would only be too happy to support her in any way he can.

"Can we do any better?" he asked as he perused the documents handed to him by his office manager, William Higgs. A wizard in his early seventies who has worked for the Malfoy family for three generations.

"Not without totally crippling our day-to-day. And we might have to pull out of some of our impact studies."

Lucius thought for a moment before coming to a decision. "We need to cut the salary budget in half. We have to let some people go," he said as he handed the documents back.

The elder wizard shook his head. "But Mr. Malfoy, that's half of our staff. You would have to fire essential staff—ones who have been with us from the beginning—"

"This is not a charity. I can't keep people on just because they've been with us a long time," Lucius countered.

"Do you mind, sir, if I ask what we're going to use the money for?"

"It's a Muggle organization I want to bring in—FundLife Initiative," he replied. It's an organization Hermione had suggested to him a year ago headed by a Squib. "They've done big projects overseas with very little budget and have collaborated with Magical people too."

"Do we need to bring in a new organization? If you want to expand overseas can't we just—"

"We've plateaued, William, and it is time for us, for Malfoy Industries to expand and bring in new opportunities."

"But sir—"

"William, you're the office manager," Lucius cut him off. He was getting tired of this discussion. William nodded in response. "And you're an excellent one. But I need you to trust that I know what I'm doing here so please get me that list. Or do I need to bring somebody else to handle this?"

William offered him a resigned smile. "No. I can do it."

"Good," their discussion was thankfully interrupted by a knock on the door. "Enter."

Justin Finch-Fletchley entered the office carrying a stack of parchment. "Good afternoon, Mr. Malfoy."

"Good afternoon," he nodded to William signaling him that the discussion is over and he's being dismissed. Thankfully, the older wizard took the hint and left the office. "What do you have for me, Justin?"

"The usual, sir, but there's a letter here from a Rose Skater although it's glaringly obvious it's Rita Skeeter from the Daily Prophet," he said as he handed Lucius the parchments.

"Subtlety was never her strong suit," Lucius remarked dryly. "I'm sure it's still the same—her asking for a personal interview."

Justin's eyes went wide. "Oh, would you like me to divert or throw all future letters from her, sir?"

"Throw them," he said as he handed Justin the parchment but an idea suddenly occurred to him. "No, wait. On second thought, let me keep that." He tucked the letter inside the pocket of his robes. "Is that all?"

"Draco left a message while you were at the conference. He asked if you and Mrs. Malfoy would still be attending the dinner tonight?"

"We will. Thank you, Justin," the boy nodded and left the office. Hermione had been the one who persuaded him to hire the boy saying it'll be good for the image of the company to have some Muggleborns in his employ.

She was right of course.

It did boost the company's image. There was also the added bonus that Mr. Finch-Fletchley was not only intelligent and efficient but also rather discreet—making him a valuable secretary.

He pulled out the letter from Rita Skeeter and gave it a once over. Like he said to Mr. Finch-Fletchley, the letter contained an invitation to personally interview him and his wife.

Hermione had developed an odd, cautious relationship with the abominable witch throughout her tenure at the DMLE and they often exchanged carefully selected information that benefitted their careers greatly. His wife climbed up from being an Auror to becoming the youngest Head of the Department in just three years while Rita Skeeter gained more credibility and a larger readership for the Daily Prophet.

The exchange of information became less frequent in the past two years what with the nature of Hermione's work becoming more classified.

But an idea had occurred to Lucius. He'd have to consult with his wife first before meeting the slippery reporter.

* * *

"Thank Merlin you're here!" Draco exclaimed as he reached the two. "Astoria's been boring me to death with her work stories!"

"Hey!" came a shout from the parlor. Astoria Malfoy nee Greengrass soon emerged and greeted her in-laws.

"Good evening Lucius, Hermione," she kissed Hermione on both cheeks and gave Lucius a hug. "So glad you two could make it!"

"Likewise, Astoria," Lucius returned the sentiment.

"Where's Daphne?" Hermione asked.

"She's on duty tonight so she had to skip dinner. I told her to trade shifts with Healer Pye but," Draco shrugged. "It's not even that hectic at the hospital."

"It's not hectic because you're assigned on the third floor," Astoria rolled her eyes. "Wait til Healer Smethwyck assigns you to the first floor or the Janus Thickey Ward."

"Come now, Tori. Is that a way to talk to your husband?" Vera Greengrass strolled in, her husband, Gareth Greengrass followed closely behind. Both were immaculately groomed, styled, and outfitted. "Hermione, Lucius, how lovely to see you."

The two pairs exchanged greetings and everyone was soon ushered to the dining hall.

Dinner was a pleasant affair followed by dessert which pleased Hermione greatly.

"I asked Lucius your favorite," Vera said as she sliced into her chocolate mousse. "After the announcement earlier I thought you'd like some comfort food."

"Thank you, Vera. That's very kind of you," Hermione said as she took a bite of her own. It tasted divine, the chocolate melting so deliciously in her mouth. "This is delicious."

"I'm glad you liked it. I'm sorry about the... you know," she made a motion with her hands. "It's just awful. Gareth and I were so upset when we read the news," Vera looked to her husband and Gareth nodded in agreement.

"Cormac McLaggen, geez," Draco wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Even Dolores Umbridge would be a better candidate."

"Well, Umbridge did hold the position, you know," Astoria piped up, lightly ribbing Draco. "But I agree. What the bloody hell came over Shacklebolt's mind to replace you with McLaggen?"

"Language, Tori," Vera admonished, earning her a frown from her daughter.

"It's nothing, really," Lucius spoke up as he grabbed Hermione's hand and squeezed it gently. "Between you and me, Hermione is relieved. She just feels much more at home in the DMLE. Right, my dear?" Hermione nodded in agreement.

"I would've bet a thousand galleons Shacklebolt was going to choose you," Gareth declared.

Hermione laughed it off as she squeezed Lucius's hand in return. "Well, it's a good thing you have a thousand galleons to spare."

"But Cormac McLaggen? Come on. That's a real insult, isn't it? He's got half the experience you do, and less than half the brain."

"Shacklebolt's a smart man. He knows what he's doing," Hermione shrugged.

"You're a bigger person than I am, Hermione," Gareth said before taking a sip of his wine. "If I were in your shoes, I'd be pissed as hell."

Lucius and Hermione caught each other's eyes. They appreciate the sympathy of the Greengrasses, but they abhor sympathy as a concept. It feels humiliating.

* * *

It was midnight when Lucius found her in the library furiously scribbling parchment after parchment. Draco and Astoria were the ones who left first, heading home to their townhouse in London while he and Hermione stayed for half an hour before saying their goodbyes to the Greengrasses with a promise to return the gesture of hosting a dinner at the Manor soon.

They went their separate ways when they reached home. Lucius retreated to his study to tend to some business matters while Hermione went to the library to go over some Ministry work.

It was half past eleven when he decided to climb up the stairs to their bedroom. Lucius expected to see his wife in their bed doing some light reading while waiting for him but found it empty. It didn't surprise him though. Hermione tended to forget the time when she's immersed in her work and because of yesterday's events, she'll likely get carried away now more than ever.

His hunch was correct when he saw light coming from the library.

He gave the door three knocks. She didn't need to give her blessing, not really since this is his home after all, but ever since they got married, the library had been her place.

Lucius chuckled when he didn't hear a response on the other side. Either she had fallen asleep on her desk again or she's so focused on her work that she didn't hear him.

He cautiously opened the doors to the library and peered around. He almost didn't see her buried under a mountain of parchments and scrolls. Lucius strolled toward her, his footsteps slightly muffled by the thick carpet.

Hermione still hadn't noticed him though so he decided to make his presence known by reaching out and placing a finger under her chin, tilting it up to face him.

"Are you going to bed? You haven't slept since the other day."

She blinked at him a few times. It took her a second to reply, her mind still adrift from work. "What time is it?"

"Nearly midnight."

A slight yawn escaped her lips at the mention of the time. "I'll be there in a minute," she said as she flexed her neck, wincing at the tension.

A soft moan escaped her lips when she felt cold large hands slid down her neck to her shoulders, deftly massaging her aching muscles. She hadn't realized Lucius went over her desk and now stood behind her. "That feels so good."

He pushed her hair over her one shoulder and soon felt his warm lips began to caress her neck. His lips nipped and bit causing a painful but pleasurable pulse against her skin.

His hands traveled lower tracing her collarbone to her chest. A thumb swiped at her taut nipple and Hermione can't help but moan a little louder.

"Lucius," she sighed as she leaned back further against him.

"Shh," he took his hands back and Hermione felt bereft at the loss of contact. "Just relax, my dear, and let me do the work."

Lucius swiveled the chair around to face her. He leaned down to press a chaste kiss to her lips. Hermione leaned into it, sliding her hand along his chiseled jaw and opening him up easily, hot and sweet. He could taste the wine they drank earlier and a hint of chocolate. The mixture was intoxicating.

He could feel her hands then, roaming, going down from his jaw to the dent on his trousers.

Lucius pulled his lips away from hers and grabbed her wrist. No, tonight was all about her.

And so he slid, down onto the floor between her thighs, let her hook one of her legs over his shoulder, stiletto heel sliding down his back with a lowly audible scrape. His hands traveled from her calves and stopped to her thighs. Lucius then looked up to his wife, her eyes glazed, pupils dilated that made her eye color looked black.

"Take it off," she ordered.

Lucius grinned, slowly, his lips drawing back across bared teeth. "Of course," he murmured. Her skirt zips in the back and he slid his hands underneath her to find the zipper, watched her squirm as she tried to play it cool. He took his time sliding it down her legs, folded it carefully, and laid it across her desk. Her hands had drifted up to the buttons on her blouse, but she doesn't undo all of them, only the top three.

Hermione whined, feeling overwhelmed already. Lucius peeled her knickers off slowly, letting out a soft grunt at the sight of her cunt. He pressed her thighs apart and took a while stroking the insides of her thighs, teasing her, mouthing at her hips and the soft skin above her mound so that her cunt clenched and her limbs twitched.

He parted her folds with his hands and slid his thumb softly down. "Gorgeous," he said as his eyes flicked between her cunt and her face, and she squirmed and clutched the armrests. He smeared her slick around with his thumb, circled her clit slowly and gently, and then leaned forward to lick it with little flicks of his tongue.

And when she came with a moan, hand clutching the back of his head, he smoothed his hands up the outsides of her thighs, her hips, and her sides, intensifying the feeling so that her back bowed on the chair and she whimpered.

He stroked a hand across her trembling stomach and watched her as she came down.

"Don't you want to come?" she gasped eventually.

"I don't need to," he said. His face was flushed and his hair was slightly tousled. Lucius waved a hand and her skirt was back firmly in place. "Now, are you going to bed?"

She gave him an embarrassed smile. "I don't think I can stand."

"Well, in that case…" he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to their bedroom.

"This reminds me of our wedding," his wife said through half-lidded eyes. He could tell she was already falling asleep. "Thank you, Lucius."

"My pleasure," Lucius said as he laid her across the bed. Hermione was already half asleep although she was trying her hardest to stay awake. He pressed a chaste kiss on her left hand and soon climbed the bed, his arms encircling her waist, pulling her closer to him. "Sweet dreams, my dear."

A soft hum of appreciation was the last thing Lucius heard before sleep overtook him.


	3. Do We Have a Deal?

**[int:[me and the devil | soap&skin]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xd9LpME3jnk)**

Hermione was furiously working at her desk while Blaise sat across her. Last night, someone sent an anonymous package in the Improper Use of Magic Office causing the entire section of the department to be contained for inspection and thus, therefore, unusable. Employees had to share with the other divisions in order to continue running operations.

"You'd think that we're a thousand times more vigilant now after the hell we went through ten years ago," Hermione said as she perused the documents in front of her.

"They've been complacent. It was, after all, as you said, ten years ago," Blaise said earning him an eye-roll from Hermione. _If only Alastor Moody was alive right now._

They heard two knocks on the door and after a beat, Penelope poked her head in. "Theo's here."

Hermione looked at Blaise then back to her secretary, "Show him in."

"What do you think he wants?"

Hermione shrugged, "Most probably the legislative agenda. It's quite rare for the Minister's secretary to travel down the dark hallways of the DMLE. A gesture of respect, no doubt—which I appreciate, even if it comes at a cost. Let's see if I was right about Elphias Doge."

"Do you want me to stay?" Blaise asked his boss who only shook her head no.

He then stood and opened the door revealing his former fellow Slytherin housemate standing on the other side. "Hello, Theo. Fancy seeing you here."

"Hello, Blaise," Theo smiled, not quite reaching his eyes.

"I'll see you around," Blaise ushered him inside then took his leave, closing the door on his way out.

Hermione stood and greeted the Minister's secretary. "Good morning, Theo. I appreciate you making the trip down," she held out her hand.

"Of course. My pleasure," he smiled while taking the proffered hand, giving it a firm shake.

"I assume we're discussing education?" Hermione asked as they took their seats with Theo sitting in the chair Blaise recently vacated.

"First things first," Theo placed the folder on her desk and opened it, pointing to a spot. "The seating chart for the Inauguration. How do these two work for you and Mr. Malfoy?"

Hermione immediately noticed McLaggen's name two rows in front of them. She could already feel a bubble of anger rising through the surface. "Wow."

Unfortunately (or fortunately for her case), Theo mistook her words as some form of gratitude. "Which comes with a complementary set of tickets to the Inauguration Ball."

"Lucius will be over the moon," Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"Good, I'm glad. So, education. We have Elphias Doge drafting the legislation," Theo beamed as he took the folder back. Hermione wanted to raise her fist in the air but settled for a slight curve of her lips instead. "You can imagine the bind that puts us in."

"The bill's going to be two steps to the left of Cornelius Fudge."

Theo sighed and leaned back into the chair. "Percy and I had advised the Minister against it but education has been Doge's baby for twenty years. We have to let him take the lead."

"You want me to advise him. Bring him toward the middle?" Hermione raised an eyebrow and Theo only nodded. This was definitely going to be tricky. Elphias Doge was an experienced Pureblood with lots of political influence. Even Lucius had a hard time shooting down his laws when he was still working in the Ministry back in Fudge's term. "Do I have absolute autonomy and authority on this?"

Theo seemed relieved though that Hermione understood what he wanted her to do. "Yes. We need this bill to pass smoothly through the Wizengamot. Kingsley wants to make a pledge in his inaugural address."

Hermione pondered for a moment, weighing the pros and cons. After a beat, she smiled at Theo. "Consider it done."

"I know it's a lot to put on your plate what with..." he gestured outside where her employees are round the clock working, finding out who sent the anonymous package.

She waved her hands in a dismissive way, "You've got a hundred days before the honeymoon is over. Anything you want to put on my plate, feel free."

"Thank you, Hermione," Theo stood, and Hermione followed suit. She walked him out of her office, through the halls to the lift. Before he stepped in, he turned to Hermione and smiled. "Keep me posted?"

"I'll have my secretary set up a meeting with him. I'll check in with you later this week."

"Terrific," he said as the doors to the lift slid open. Theo stepped in and nodded to Hermione in goodbye.

Blaise was waiting for her at her office door with a stack of parchments tucked under his arm.

"You were right, weren't you?" he smiled.

"Were you eavesdropping?" she arched an eyebrow at him.

"Don't need to," he opened the doors for her and they both settled back inside her office. "You need to work on your facial expressions if you want to become the next Minister of Magic."

"Lucius said I do just fine," Hermione whined.

"Yes, but that was before our timeline changed. It's a different game we're playing now and we have to keep our cards close to our chest," Blaise said as he placed the stack of folders on her desk. "So what does Theo think?"

"He thinks I can be bought by a pair of two tickets as if I'm some post-war vagrant. What he's asking will cost far more than that. Kingsley's political capital rises or falls with the success of this bill. And I need to be at the center of it. Theo might not trust me as far as he can throw me. But he doesn't have to. If I prove myself indispensable, he can't afford to throw me very far."

Blaise nodded. "I'll ask Penelope to set up a meeting. In the meantime, I just finished the list."

He tapped on the stack of parchments on her desk and together, they brainstormed through the list of candidates until they're down to the last four.

"Sturgis Podmore?"

"Too old."

"Millicent Bulstrode?"

"Too stupid."

"Ludo Bagman?"

A look passed over Hermione's features before it settled to calm neutrality. "Too queer."

"Really?" Blaise asked incredulously but Hermione only gave him a look. "But he's married with two kids."

"He propositioned Lucius during last year's Christmas gala."

"What?!" Blaise sighed and flipped to another page. "Alright, what about Susan Bones?"

"Susan Bones," Hermione looked up from her desk a contemplative expression on her face as Blaise handed her a sheet of parchment containing Miss Bones' political resume. "But she was vocally anti-Shacklebolt. She hated how Kingsley pardoned and only gave light sentencing to some of the well-known Death Eaters arrested including my husband."

"But she's got the experience," he countered. "Her resume's nearly as good as yours."

"Is that admiration I hear?" Hermione teased but Blaise only shrugged indifferently. "Do you think she'll be receptive to a meeting? She's well aware of who my husband is, right?"

"Susan Bones was on the board of governors for two years before she stepped down and moved on to DIMC," Blaise reminded her. "She had worked with Mr. Malfoy on some of the educational reforms for the Hogwarts' curriculum."

Hermione pondered it for a moment. "Alright. Set up a meeting with her too."

Blaise gathered the rest of the papers and left the office. Hermione leaned back in her chair as she read through the rest of Susan Bones' paper.

"Interesting."

* * *

Lucius was standing in the middle of the conference room, staring through the floor to ceiling windows overlooking the view of Muggle London. He had just finished reading Hermione's letter when he heard the familiar knock of his secretary.

Justin Finch-Fletchley opened the door a little and poked his head in. "Sir, Rita Skeeter is here."

"Thank you, Justin," Lucius adjusted his cravat in the reflection of the window as he addressed his secretary. "Send her in."

A minute later, the doors swung open and Rita Skeeter entered dressed in a seafoam green shirt and a skintight leather skirt that squeaked every time she moved while a purple scarf adorned her slim neck. Lucius thought the colors made her looked like a clown.

"Good afternoon, Miss Skeeter, please, sit," Lucius motioned to the chair across him. He planned to be as far away as possible from the horrendous witch. After his divorce and pardon, she's one of the many women who kept throwing themselves at him, hoping to be the next Mrs. Malfoy. Lucius shuddered at the memory.

He poured whiskey from the decanter on the side table across the room and levitated it to the reporter, then proceeded to sit on the chair opposite the witch.

Rita took a sip but grimaced and coughed at the taste. "It's strong," she remarked, coughing a few more.

"You like it weak?" Lucius smirked.

"No, the stronger the better," she answered as she unwrapped her scarf and placed it on the table beside her crocodile handbag. Lucius noticed the first four buttons of her blouse were undone revealing some cleavage.

He couldn't control the revulsion that crawled across his skin but the diminutive witch seemed to misinterpret his body language as something else.

"There's no harm in looking," Rita Skeeter purred, and it took his entire willpower not to hurl the glass he was holding at her. Merlin, help him. He's starting to regret suggesting this idea to Hermione.

"That's a cheap ploy, Ms. Skeeter," Lucius growled.

"Cheap but effective," the witch had the gall to wink at him. Ten years ago he wouldn't hesitate to curse this bitch to the depths of Hades but now, he would settle for mildly annoyed. He has, after all, a deal to offer her.

"If your goal is to distract me—which you haven't."

"I don't want you distracted. I want you focused."

"Well, you certainly have my undivided attention," Lucius drawled as he crossed his legs and placed both hands on top of his thighs. A perfect picture of a gentleman at leisure.

"Good, then I'll get straight to the point—"

Rita Skeeter was interrupted by a mirthless chuckle coming from the wizard in front of her. Lucius then raised an eyebrow mockingly, "Is foreplay over?"

"I heard somewhere that Kingsley Shacklebolt never lasted more than three minutes," the reporter smirked.

 _Interesting_ , he thought as he filed away the information at the back of his mind. "The point being?"

"That time is precious. Powerful people don't have the luxury of foreplay," she looked around before settling her eyes back on the blond wizard. "Is Mrs. Malfoy not joining us today?"

It was his turn to smirk. "No. I'm afraid there will be no interviews today, Miss Skeeter."

The smile vanished and she instantly paled, "Why am I here?"

Lucius slightly leaned forward, his countenance all businesslike. The sooner this thing was over, the sooner he can get to his wife and fuck her senseless until Rita Skeeter's poor attempt at seduction was erased from his mind.

"It's quite simple. I need somebody I can trust, and someone who trusts me," he simply said.

"You came for the wrong person for that Mr. Malfoy. Or have you forgotten to whom you are speaking?"

Lucius tapped his index finger on his chin and pondered for a moment. "Maybe trust isn't the right word. An arrangement perhaps."

"As in…" Rita Skeeter trailed off, finally grasping what the Malfoy patriarch was implying. She narrowed her eyes at him. "What makes you think I don't already have such an arrangement with one of your colleagues?"

"Oh, I know all about your arrangement with my wife. But Hermione's current position at work meant that there's only so much she can divulge without it coming back to her. I, on the other hand…"

"And in return? I already have a large and steady readership plus my credibility as a writer is impeccable, all thanks to your wife. And before you say it, no, I'm not interested in your money."

"I suppose, the chance to interview my wife and I doesn't please you?" Lucius asked, quirking an eyebrow. "Full access to any information. Ask whatever you want."

Rita Skeeter pondered it for a moment, her lips turning up. "I haven't told my editor about this yet, but I was planning on retiring soon."

"A sad news for your readers, I'm sure," Lucius said sarcastically.

She ignored the jab and continued. "Before I retire, I'm planning on writing one last article. Something that everyone will not forget anytime soon."

Lucius narrowed his eyes at her but remained quiet.

"What better story to write than the story of two different people who came from two different backgrounds, who overcame their differences and fell in love," Rita Skeeter smiled sweetly at him. "It'll be the story of a lifetime!"

"I didn't peg you as the hopeless romantic type," Lucius couldn't resist the urge to roll his eyes.

"I'm not. But most of my readers are. And no, it will not be on the Prophet. A thousand words wouldn't do it justice," at Lucius's puzzled look, Rita Skeeter grinned, crooked white teeth glistening in the dim light of the conference room. "You and your wife's story, Mr. Malfoy, will be published in a book."

Lucius stared at her for a moment before bursting into a laugh, "Ambitious as always, Miss Skeeter. Very well, then. You have yourself a deal. A story for a story."

"What are the terms, Mr. Malfoy?"

"The same thing you had with my wife. I've had a very long, very successful career avoiding this sort of intrigue with the press so you'll understand my need for absolute discretion and trust."

"Use whatever word you like. I don't care," Skeeter shrugged.

"Words matter very much, Miss Skeeter," Lucius narrowed his eyes at her. "You should care more, given your profession."

"Then yes, you have my trust. Because if I were to betray it I stand far less of a chance surviving the consequences."

"That desperate to interview us, huh?"

"Who wouldn't be?"

"Oh, I could think of a handful of people," Lucius replied drily.

"I assume Mrs. Malfoy is aware of this meeting?" at his nod, she pulled out a notepad and dictaquill. From what Hermione had told him, ever since increasing Rita Skeeter's status as a writer due to her and his wife's arrangement, the sneaky reporter had forgone the use of quick quotes quill and had opted to use the regular dictaquill instead to be precise and factual, something her new readers appreciated more. "So, Mr. Malfoy, how exactly can I help you?"

"The Administration's legislative agenda."

"I see," this certainly piqued her interest. Kingsley was being tightlipped about it. _This might be a better arrangement than I had with his wife,_ she mused. "You must know something."

"What would be your guess?" he challenged.

"Revision of draconian laws is too controversial. International trade isn't sexy enough," Rita Skeeter considered for a moment, the dictaquill suspended mid-air. "Shacklebolt would want to start with something everyone can get behind with and something impactful. I'm thinking of education."

Lucius smirked, glad that the reporter had some brains after all. This was going to be a very propitious arrangement.

* * *

The lift to the top floor of Malfoy Industries slid open and Hermione stepped off, her kitten heels clicking on the ornate marble floors as she walked through the hallway towards her husband's office. She could've flooed directly from her office to his but she needed to drop by Flourish and Blotts first to pick up a book she'd pre-ordered. As she turned the corner she saw Lucius's secretary behind the desk, shuffling some papers

"Good evening, Justin," Hermione greeted him as she approached the desk.

"Good evening, Mrs. Malfoy," he replied. "Mr. Malfoy is in a meeting at the conference room, I'm afraid."

"I know," she smiled at her former schoolmate. "Oh, do call me Hermione, Justin. We're in the same year!"

Justin Finch-Fletchley thought for a moment before returning the smile. "Very well, Hermione. Would you like to wait inside his office?"

Just then, they heard the doors to the conference room swung open and Hermione saw her husband escort Rita Skeeter out. It was the reporter who saw her first.

"Mrs. Malfoy," Rita Skeeter said as she approached her. "A pleasure to see you again."

"Likewise Miss Skeeter," she replied as she looked at the woman from head to toe. A false smile of politeness firmly in place.

Lucius came over and gave her a quick peck on her cheek. "Hello, my dear. I hope you weren't waiting that long. Miss Skeeter and I had just finished discussing some things," he turned to face the said witch. "I trust you know your way out?"

Rita Skeeter nodded, "Mrs. Malfoy, until next time."

They waited until they heard the doors to the lift closed. Lucius then turned to his secretary. "Did you put Miss Skeeter in the visitors' ledger?"

Justin shook his head. "I was just about to."

"Don't," Lucius then grabbed his wife's hand and proceeded to pull her to his office.

"Does that work on anybody? The undone buttons and the push-up bra?" Hermione asked him, amusement dancing inside those bright whiskey-colored eyes of hers.

"Well if it does, I don't know who they are," Lucius impatiently drawled.

As soon as the doors closed, Justin Finch-Fletchley cast a strong silencing charm to the room, something he'd perfected since working here in Malfoy Industries.

The silencing charm was more for his sanity than his boss's privacy.


	4. The Holy Fool

**[int:[dust | the neigbourhood]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EMVqcPMGB0s)**

"You didn't wake me."

Lucius turned around to see his wife standing by the door to his study holding two cups of steaming tea, still wearing her dressing gown.

"No, I didn't," he replied, not in the slightest bit apologetic.

He did it on purpose. She slept quite late last night again, just half an hour before the sun rose, had been for the past week and Lucius was starting to worry. Hermione did warn him about having more sleepless nights than usual but he didn't realize how she would take that warning to heart. It's a miracle she hadn't passed out from the lack of sleep. Lucius made a mental note to check their supply of Pepper-up potion and Invigoration Draught.

Hermione walked into the room, stopping in front of his desk to place the two cups she's holding. She walked around to where he stood by the bookshelves and gave him a quick kiss.

"Well, the least you could do is stay in bed with me," she said, voice still a bit gruff from sleep. "I missed seeing your face first thing in the morning when I wake up."

Lucius circled his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to him, "In that case, you should come to bed a little early."

"Prat," she muttered as she playfully smacked him on the chest.

Lucius responded by trailing wet kisses down her throat. "Do you think we can arrange two more at our table for the Inauguration Ball?"

"For whom?" she asked distractedly as she felt his lip ghosting over her collarbone.

"The Greengrasses," he said and Hermione felt the rumble of his voice, sending a hot wave straight to her core.

She gently pushed him away, eyebrows knotted in confusion, "Why in Godric's name would we want them there?" Sure the Greengrasses are family now through Draco and Astoria's marriage but Hermione hardly thought that makes them friends. And she's fairly positive Lucius felt the same.

"I'm going to need their money for the company at some point,"

"The expansion?"

Lucius nodded, "The staff cuts will only get us halfway there. We'll need to fund new projects."

"I'll talk to Theo," she said, touching his cheek affectionately before completely pulling away.

Hermione strode back over his desk, perching her bottom on the edge. The action caused her dressing gown to slid up, revealing her toned thighs to him. She lifted the cup of tea and took a tentative sip.

"How're we doing?" Lucius asked, never taking his eyes off her.

He imagined those thighs firmly wrapped around his waist as he pounded into her relentlessly—just the way she liked it. He could feel the beginnings of an erection, the result of having a rather insatiable appetite for his wife, though Lucius doubted they'd have a moment to spare for such attentions today.

"Good."

"Just good?" he raised an eyebrow at her. Lucius tried to distract himself by perusing some of the books sitting by the bookshelf.

"There's progress," Hermione replied while flicking through the papers sitting at his desk. "I'm meeting with Elphias Doge later to discuss the education bill."

"Good luck with that," he snorted inelegantly. "I'm surprised that the old bat is still working in the Ministry."

"Kingsley pulled Doge back along with some of the others. He needed all the manpower he could get," she sighed. "How did you do it?"

"The political atmosphere was different back then. I don't think my previous methods would work now and it would definitely put you in a bad light if you so much as speak ill about him," Lucius tapped a finger on his chin. "What surprised me, though, is that the Minister didn't even come to you for a consultation considering you tick all the boxes."

"I don't know what his game is and why the fuck he's antagonizing me. First, it was McLaggen, and now this bill with Doge," she sat the papers down and glanced up to where Lucius is standing. "And, I'm going to meet with Susan Bones next week."

"She's your pick?"

Hermione nodded. "I need your help with her too. You've worked with her before."

"Of course, my dear. Whatever you need," he pulled a book from the shelf and levitated it to the stacks sitting on his desk. "Oh, before I forget, Rita Skeeter will be coming over tomorrow afternoon to start the interview."

Hermione nodded, "What are we going to tell her?"

Lucius turned around and stalked towards where his wife was sitting. He placed a finger underneath her chin and tilted her head upwards before dipping his head to capture her lips in a passionate kiss. Lucius pulled back after a while, resting his forehead against hers. Chocolate brown eyes met sleet gray ones.

" _Our_ story."

* * *

Hermione sat behind her desk, reading the first draft of Elphias Doge's education bill while the man in question sat across her.

She had been combing through it for over thirty minutes now and she wasn't even halfway through when she decided that the bill was total trash. Tax increase? Ministry oversight? As if having a board of governors that oversaw the running of Hogwarts was enough, he wanted to involve the Ministry too!

She tried to recall a time she had hurt Kingsley or stepped a toe out of line but no memory came back. So why in Godric's name was the Minister saddling her the task of babysitting an archaic oaf?

Hermione sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Is something the matter, Miss Granger?"

Something in her snapped.

No one has called her Miss Granger for years up until that toad Umbridge waddled in during Kingsley's reelection party. Hermione thought she felt a vein in her forehead popped. "It's Mrs. Malfoy now—has been for a while," she said through gritted teeth.

"Forgive me. I stopped reading the gossip columns on The Daily Prophet for years now. Was never a fan of that Skeeter woman," he chuckled sheepishly and continued rambling on, unaware that the witch in front of him was turning a bright shade of red. "Belated congratulations, by the way, on your wedding to… what's the name of Malfoy's son? Draco isn't it? I thought I heard she was married to that Greengrass girl? Well, it's good that the Malfoys finally saw the light and—"

"Draco _is_ married to Astoria, not me," Hermione interrupted him.

"Not Draco? Did Lucius have another son?" he asked but she just stared at him blankly letting the words sink in. " _Oh._ "

"Six years," she proudly said.

"But—"

"Anyway, going back to the matter at hand," Hermione pointed to the stack of parchment in front of her.

"Is there a problem with the bill?" he raised an eyebrow at her and she couldn't help but roll her eyes. Hermione lifted the stack of parchment for emphasis before using her wand to tear it into evenly pieces. "What are you—"

She levitated the shredded pieces before unceremoniously shoving it down the waste bin. "The bill is trash, Mr. Doge, and you know it. You've wasted your time and mine."

Hermione was planning on going soft on the old wizard despite her grudge with the Minister for overlooking her because, after all, he didn't ask to be here. He was a valued member of The Order and Harry had spoken highly of him in the past. But if she's planning on getting the bill in the first hundred days, she needed to take the reigns and steer it forcefully in the right direction—the very first lesson her husband had taught her.

"How am I supposed to work with that? How am I supposed to get that through the Wizengamot?"

"When Kingsley approached me to draft a bill on education he promised—" Hermione held up a hand to stop Mr. Doge from rambling nonsense.

"I'm sure the Minister said any number of things, but forget what they promised you, Mr, Doge. They only want your name because it carries weight," she declared.

When dealing with stubborn old guards like Elphias Doge, it was either slap them with the brutal truth or pander to their ego until they softened enough to reach a compromise.

But Hermione wasn't willing to compromise and if she ever wanted to become the Minister of Magic she needed her cabinet members to equally respect and fear her.

The more she pandered to Doge's ego, the more likely he'll be less receptive to suggestions so the former way it is. It's a risk she'll be willing to take.

"But Miss Gra—I mean Mrs. Malfoy, my name comes with my ideas," he stubbornly insisted.

Hermione wanted to scream but settled for a frustrated sigh instead. Perhaps applying both techniques might do the trick. "I understand, Mr. Doge, but you've got to be reasonable about this. This isn't The Great Debate; it's about passing meaningful reform. Maybe not everything you hope but help me by helping you."

Elphias Doge looked away, staring longingly at the waste bin where his shredded draft currently rested and that's when Hermione knew that she'd won. "I'll rewrite it," he said resignedly.

"You have less than two weeks," she reminded him.

"If you want something from scratch that's going to take time," Elphias Doge shook his head. "Those ideas I've been developing them for—"

"Then get me a short-form draft. Get me something I can put your name on. We can flesh out the longform later when the initial proposal goes through the first session."

"Okay, Mrs. Malfoy. I'll see what I can do," he hurriedly stood and turned to leave but Hermione stopped him.

"Mr. Doge, is that the only copy of the bill?" she said, pointing to the waste bin. He nodded. "Very well. I'll be seeing you in two weeks."

Although she's positively sure that she'll be rewriting the bill eventually. It's going to be an uphill climb if it came to that but she had to push forward. Ideology is for standing still on a soapbox and Hermione's a witch that never stood still. It's the momentum she craved and Shacklebolt had just unthinkingly thrown her a huge one.

As soon as the doors closed, Hermione picked up a quill and a piece of parchment. She's got a letter to send to her husband.

* * *

Lucius stood in the middle of the drawing-room clutching two pieces of parchment—one from his wife and one from Harry Potter, the latter asking if he could have a word with him now without Hermione's presence. He found it suspicious because Potter never really visited the Manor unless his wife was around.

It never occurred to him to ask his wife if Potter was involved in this or not—a critical mistake that he couldn't rectify because Potter would be here at any moment, barring any opportunity to send a quick word to his wife.

At the same time, this meeting might prove useful, depending on the nature of Potter's visit. The only question is: is he willing to take that risk?

He knelt to the floor and traced the line of dried blood with the tip of his index finger. It wasn't his blood, but his wife's. Back when they were both on the opposing sides of a war.

The drawing-room was the only place in the Manor that was left untouched. At first, Lucius didn't have the heart to do so. It served as a constant reminder of the many faults and failures in his life. Though he was about to destroy the room when Hermione agreed to marry him but his then-fiancée told him to just leave it at that.

She never told him why and Lucius never asked, thinking out of all the people, he's the least likely she'll confide in despite their pending nuptials. Years passed and Hermione never did tell him why and the reason was buried along with the memories.

But Lucius often visited this room whenever he had to make a critical decision without Hermione's knowledge. Trust and transparency had always been the foundational element of their relationship but there were things that required him to go behind her back for her own safety.

He was broken out of his thoughts when he heard a soft pop of apparition.

"Mr. Potter has arrived," his house-elf informed him. "Winky has sent him to Master's study like he instructed."

"Very well, Winky," he stood, dusting off the dust that had collected at his knees. "Fetch us some tea in a few minutes."

"Yes, Master," the elf bowed and took a few steps back before disapparating.

Winky was the only remaining elf in the Manor. All the other house-elves died during the war and when he and Hermione eventually married, she insisted that the elf be set free.

Both the elf and its Master didn't take it greatly. It was the first real fight he and Hermione had as a married couple and to think it happened during the first month of their marriage. Lucius smiled to himself, remembering how they managed to convince the Mistress to change her mind about setting Winky free.

He made his way to his study, finding Potter standing by the fireplace. "Potter," he greeted.

"Malfoy," he nodded. Potter paused a moment as if deliberating something. He ran a hand through his messy mop of dark hair, exhaling a frustrated sigh at the same time. "I'm not going to beat around the bush here. Whatever it is you and Hermione are planning, stop it."

So, she left him out of it then, he mused. "I'm afraid I have no idea what you mean."

"Oh, don't insult my intelligence. I may not be as smart as Hermione but I'm not that daft," Potter rolled his eyes at him. "You didn't become Voldemort's most trusted lieutenant by acting dumb around him."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Lucius smirked. It was always fun to rile up The Boy Who Lived.

"Of course, you would."

"But I still have no idea what you're talking about," he shrugged. Winky then apparated, carrying a tray of tea and some biscuits. "Take a seat, Potter, and let's discuss this like civilized adults."

Harry plopped down ungracefully on an empty armchair across him, muttering his thanks as Lucius handed him a cup of tea. "I know Hermione is planning something. There's no one I knew who held onto grudges like her. She wouldn't let what Kingsley did to her go that easily."

"Let's say that my wife is indeed planning something, then what?" Lucius asked. "You want me to tell her to stop?"

Harry nodded. "I can talk to Kingsley, I can convince him to give Hermione the position of Senior Undersecretary."

"You're still as naïve, Potter," Lucius scoffed. "This isn't the Wizarding War anymore. We're playing a different game now and you have no political gravitas to demand such things to Shacklebolt. If you truly know my wife then you'd know that she's unstoppable once she'd set her sights on something."

"I just don't want her to lose everything she'd worked so hard for all for the sake of fulfilling a personal vendetta."

"Kingsley made promises to her only for him to turn it around and spat it in her face. How can you trust a wizard like him to rule over the entire Wizarding Britain? Who knows what else he has done? It is more than personal, Potter."

"Oh, so suddenly you grew a moral compass?"

"Watch your tongue, boy. We're on the same side here," he sneered.

"And whose side is it?" Harry challenged.

"Hermione's."

Lucius watched him closely, watched as those shining defiant green eyes of his dimmed with defeat. _Checkmate._ "She's the only family I have left. I don't want to lose her."

He leaned forward in his seat and steepled his hands under his chin. "Then help her."

"How am I going to do that if she won't even let me in?"

Lucius smirked. Here it is—the moment of truth.

"How far are you willing to go to help your best friend?"

* * *

Blaise Zabini sat alone in his office, a room that's adjacent to Hermione's, as he finished some of the paperwork left. Everyone had already left including Hermione and Penelope. It was nearing ten and he was about to turn in for the night when he heard a rustling sound in the hallway.

Turning off the lights in his office, he stealthily made his way over, using the darkness of the hallway as cover. A movement of a shadow caught his eye and he followed it.

He stopped in his tracks when he turned around the corner and saw Dennis Creevey carrying the exact same looking package that exploded in the Improper Use of Magic Office a week ago.

Creevey pulled out his wand and unlocked the doors to Robard's office. How he got passed the wards, Blaise had no idea.

He watched Creevey tiptoe inside and place the inconspicuous looking package among the others then made his way out of the room.

Blaise decided to step off the shadows and make his presence known. "Good evening, Mr. Creevey."

Dennis Creevey whipped his head around at the sound and was about to fire off a spell but Blaise was quicker, casting an immediate incarcerous spell at the young trainee. Creevey's body landed in a loud thud against the tiled floor.

"Look what we have here," Blaise picked up Creevey's wand and pressed a foot to his chest. "It seems that we have a trainee Auror gone rogue."

"I— I'm—"

"Save it for the ethics committee, Creevey," he cut him off.

"It wasn't me! I—I swear to Merlin!" Creevey sputtered

Blaise knelt beside him then yanked his collar forcefully in his direction. "Then you must hold Merlin in very low esteem because we both know that's a lie. Attempted assault on a high ranking official, trespassing, not to mention damage to property in which Robards would gladly gut you once he finds out you're the one who has been sending the packages."

"W-what do you want?"

A thought occurred to Blaise. He looked at Creevey carefully, weighing the pros and cons. After a beat, he smirked. It seemed they finally found their lost child. "Your absolute, unquestioning loyalty."

"Yes, I—I promise."

Blaise could feel the young trainee trembling with fear. He bet that if he pushed him hard enough, Creevey would literally shit his pants.

"Do not misunderstand what I mean by loyalty."

Creevey bobbed his head frantically. "Please don't send me to Robards. I'll do anything. You name it, Blaise," he pleaded.

Blaise leaned forward, his face merely inches away. "Not now but soon. There will be no shortage of things you'll be able to do for me."

He then stood and straightened his robes. "Finite Incantatem," he muttered. The bindings around Creevey fell and the young wizard scrambled to his feet. "Leave the package there. You've already reset the wards and any more tampering might result in malfunctioning."

Creevey glanced at his wand tucked inside Blaise's coat pocket. "What about my wand?"

"You will find your wand inside your desk drawer tomorrow morning but for tonight, it'll remain with me for safekeeping," he said then turned around to leave. "I'll keep in touch."

Dennis Creevey leaned against the wall and laid his head on his palms. Ever since his older brother died during the war, his parents had never been the same. He and Colin knew what they were getting themselves into when they decided to return to Hogwarts but it didn't lessen the grief he felt at losing his beloved brother.

He felt relief and a vindictive sense of satisfaction when Harry Potter finally defeated Voldemort during the second battle. At the very least, Colin's death was not in vain. After graduating, Dennis decided to leave the magical world to spend more time with his parents who were still struggling with grief. Then years later, he found out that Kingsley pardoned nearly half of the convicted Death Eaters including Corban Yaxley, Lucius Malfoy, and Dolores Umbridge in an attempt to boost his image for his upcoming reelection campaign.

This prompted Dennis to return and since he participated in the final battle of the Second War, he was immediately granted a spot in the Auror academy.

It was just supposed to be a little retaliation for what Kingsley Shacklebolt had done. The package Dennis left inside Robard's office was supposed to be the last one. He hadn't realized that Blaise Zabini was still in his office and now Dennis had been caught. There will be no getting out of this unless he wanted to spend a few years in Azkaban. It's like making a pact with the devil.

"What have I gotten myself into?"


	5. The Rule & The Exception

**[int:[the ruler and the killer | kid cudi]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AAOSvKub00c)**

Harry made his way through the maze of empty corridors with ease. His footsteps muffled but quick—no spell or charms needed. A result of the countless sneaking he had done throughout his younger years, back when the weight of the Wizarding World was on his shoulders.

He discovered this little hideaway when he was staying late one night, trying to finish some paperwork during his early years as a Trainee Auror. A janitor who was doing his nightly rounds of cleaning spotted him hunched over his desk, asked him if he wanted to take a break and brought him down here.

There's something about tight, closed spaces that he found comforting. Hermione told him it's because it reminded him of simpler times back when he was still sleeping in the Dursley's cupboard under the stairs and wasn't aware of his magical heritage yet. Harry had reconnected with his aunt Petunia after the war, but his uncle and cousin wanted nothing to do him—something that should've bothered him but oddly enough, it didn't. Not in the slightest bit

There weren't many people around in this small department but the ones that were there never gawked at Harry nor gave him a suspicious look—only nodded their heads in greeting. It made him feel like a normal person, just like another average wizard seeking solace from the hustle and bustle up above. Harry had been a frequent visitor here ever since he passed the Auror training and started working for the Ministry. The Ministry he helped rebuilt from the ashes but now—because of personal reasons—he is trying to tear down.

Merlin knows how far he would go to protect Hermione.

Lucius had been jealous of Harry once, during the early years of the Malfoys' marriage. Harry would never forget that night Hermione stormed through Grimmauld Place, face red with indignation. She nearly tore a hole through his carpet as she relentlessly paced back and forth shouting obscenities through the air. It was an interesting sight since Walburga Black's portrait was just behind her screaming insults to his loud visitor as well.

Hours later, Lucius stormed through the place fully expecting to catch Harry and her in flagrante delicto but all Lucius arrived to were two miserable-looking adults eating through a tub of ice cream. Hermione went home with her husband eventually but not before Lucius got an earful from Harry first.

An owl that looked a lot like Hedwig was waiting in his office the following day. It was as close to an apology he would get from a man like Lucius.

As much as Lucius claimed to know Hermione, he would never understand the bond that Harry shared with her. It was much stronger but more grounded than the bond Harry had formed with Ron. With Ron, Harry found a good friend, and as much as he loved the Weasleys, they never could understand what he went through but with Hermione, he found more than an understanding. He found a family—something he'd wanted all his life.

He turned a corner and finally saw the lift. The finish line, he thought. _Easy peasy._

"Oy Harry!"

 _Shit._ Harry froze midstep as soon as he heard his name being called. He was hoping no one would see him—not until he got back into the relative safety of his cubicle. His left hand subconsciously went to the front pocket of his robes, feeling the small bump there.

"I've been looking for you!" Dean Thomas said as he reached him. He gave Harry a quick sniff. "Were you smoking again in the Cleanup Department?"

When he didn't answer, Dean took it as a sign of confirmation. "Don't worry, I won't tell Ginny."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief but for a different reason. Ginny knew about his smoking habit and didn't mind at all—something Dean didn't need to know. "Thanks, mate."

"Don't worry about it," Dean nodded. "I don't know why you have to go there just to smoke. All the garbage in there makes me want to vomit."

"It's quiet there," Harry shrugged.

"Well, you need to get back up ASAP," Dean pointed upwards. "Robards has been looking for you and you don't want him to be angry at you—especially now."

"I know," Harry ran a hand through his hair. They made their way over to the lift and pushed the button for level 2. "How the hell these packages kept slipping in?"

"I don't know. It's getting bloody annoying though," Dean scratched the back of his head. "We have to bunk space with those crazy blokes from Misuse of Muggle Artefacts. You're lucky your cubicle is on the other end and didn't get coated with that green sticky thing."

The lift lurched to a stop and they both stepped off. Dean waved Harry goodbye and proceeded to walk to his temporary desk while Harry made a brief stop to his cubicle first.

Once there, he quickly pulled out a parchment and scribbled a hasty note. He looked around discreetly to make sure no one was looking before pulling out the small package in his pocket. Harry placed it in a small envelope and together with the note, he summoned Hedwig II and proceeded to instruct the owl.

"Send this to Lucius Malfoy only. Make sure he's completely alone when you give it to him."

* * *

Hermione walked through the cobbled streets of Muggle London, her heels clicking in a staccato rhythm. She was about to meet Susan Bones in a Muggle café fifteen minutes away from her office. Hermione thought it would be best to discuss it outside where they are away from curious ears and prying eyes.

She arrived early and chose the most secluded table on the corner. A waitress approached her and Hermione ordered a pot of tea and asked for an extra cup saying she's expecting company. The waitress nodded and soon returned with her orders. As soon as she was alone, Hermione muttered a stasis charm over the pot to prevent it from cooling down as she waited for the Hufflepuff witch to arrive.

Susan Bones arrived three minutes early than the agreed time and Hermione was pleased by her punctuality. She gestured for her to take a seat and poured her a cup of tea.

"Thank you for agreeing to see me today."

"It's an honor," Susan smiled as she sat down and took the cup. "I assume we're going to discuss the education bill?"

Hermione can't help the mischievous smile to grace her features. "No. That thing's been handled for now."

"Then what are we meeting for today?"

She tapped a finger on her chin for effect. "I wonder if you're interested in being the next Senior Undersecretary."

"Senior Undersecretary?" Susan's eyes went wide at the offer.

Hermione nodded as she took a sip of her tea. "That's right."

Susan Bones looked entirely perplexed, clearly not expecting this meeting to be about this. She was wholly expecting Hermione to consult with her about the Education Bill with Elphias Doge since she was a Hogwarts governor for a time. "But Shacklebolt just nominated McLaggen."

"It's a long road to confirmation," Hermione shrugged appearing nonchalant.

"So what are we talking about here?"

"I'm just asking a simple question—does the job interest you?"

"Wouldn't you want it for yourself?" Susan knew about the promise—hell everyone who worked in the Ministry knew about it and how Kingsley threw her away for someone like McLaggen. But she needed to know the truth. She wasn't dumb. There was clearly a game going on here but she needed to know the stakes before diving headfirst into the chaos.

"I'm not going to lie to you, Miss Bones. I did want it," Hermione admitted.

"And now you don't?" Susan said surprised by her honesty. She expected Hermione to give her some cryptic answer.

"Not anymore," Hermione agreed. "Shacklebolt passing me over made me realize how much more at home I felt at the DMLE and not to mention the work I could achieve in that office."

"But still," Susan countered. "I don't understand why Kingsley would do that to you. You are more than qualified for the job—hell you're even more qualified for the Junior Minister position!"

The statement was patronizing and unnecessary. Hermione's not some young upstart looking for scraps of validation from her peers. She knew her qualifications well enough. Still, she didn't let her irritation show.

"Well, let's see. I'm young, a woman, and a Muggleborn—things that don't have a place in a patriarchal society that still clings to their old beliefs and seem even more determined to see a return to the old way of doing things than they were before."

"Surely Kingsley is above those things?" Susan asked uncertainly.

"What do you think?" Hermione paused, letting it sink in.

Susan had to admit that Hermione has a point. Voldemort might be gone but that doesn't mean the prejudiced that caused a huge rift in the Wizarding World also went with him. Years ago, she would've defended Kingsley Shacklebolt but everything he did since he was twice elected as Minister was the opposite of everything they've fought for.

A shadow passed over her features but she remained silent, urging Hermione to continue. "The Ministry is comprised of old Pureblood wizards like Kingsley Shacklebolt, Tiberius Ogden, and Corban Yaxley who still embraced the old ways. You can't change a belief system that's old as Merlin himself. Someone once told me that if you want to build a better home, first you must demolish the old one."

Susan Bones leaned back into her chair. "Isn't Mr. Malfoy part of the system you want to destroy?"

"My husband is different. This may sound biased considering I'm married to him but it's the truth," Hermione smiled. "I'm not saying he's a good man underneath all the arrogant persona because he is what he shows to the public but I've eventually come to understand him through the years. My husband is a Pureblood aristocrat but he's not above progressive change. Lucius is the exception, Miss Bones."

"Cormac McLaggen is the rule that we need to demolish. I want him gone because he's a pretty face with an empty skull. The Ministry needs a Senior Undersecretary I can work with. Somebody brilliant. Somebody tough. Somebody who isn't afraid to stand up to Shacklebolt when he's wrong. We need you, Miss Bones."

Hermione had laid some of her cards out to her—something Lucius would never do unless the situation called for it but she'd hazard a guess that Susan Bones was someone who appreciated a little bit of truth. The only question now was if Susan Bones was ambitious enough to take what is offered.

She got her answer in the form of a knowing smile from the witch across her.

"Let's assume I'm interested," Susan Bones began but was cut off when Hermione shook her head. She refilled her cup as she stared resolutely into the Hufflepuff's eyes.

"I don't want to assume— _I want to know._ "

* * *

Rita Skeeter made the long trek from the imposing gate to the front porch of the equally imposing Manor. She'd started to regret wearing this impossibly high heels. If it were any other witch or wizard, she wouldn't have bothered with her outfit but this was the Malfoy patriarch we're talking about. She didn't want to give him any more reason to sneer down at her.

She once tried to enter the property when Voldemort took up residence in his home. It was a huge risk but her curiosity overshadowed any fear she felt. Although, to her dismay, she never got passed the wards even in her animagus form. But today, the gates swung open for her automatically as soon as she touched the cold iron bars like she owned the place. Rita Skeeter felt such satisfaction from it.

The huge oak double doors opened after three polite knocks and she glanced down to see a house-elf standing by the side. Rita noted that it was not wearing tattered rags as most elves did but a nice, clean pillowcase instead.

"Master is waiting in the study," the elf said. "Follow me."

She gave her coat to the elf who vanished it with a snap of its bony fingers and ushered her through the house.

The house, if you could call it that, felt more like a museum with countless paintings and sculptures hanging across the walls. A huge spiral staircase stood in the middle of the entrance hall with a massive yet beautiful chandelier floating above it. Ornate baseboards and crown moldings lined up the wall bottom and ceiling trim. She could get lost in here trying to navigate by herself and may end up somewhere she shouldn't be.

They stopped in front of a tall double door with intricate carvings and the house-elf knocked first before announcing her presence. The doors opened slightly, just enough to let her in and closed on its own as soon as she stepped inside.

The room looked just like the hallways of the Manor except there was only a single unmoving painting hanging on the other end of the room where a side table stood underneath it. The rest of the walls were lined with bookshelves.

"Good afternoon, Miss Skeeter," the Lord of the Manor greeted her coolly. "Please have a seat."

She suddenly felt a trickle of fear at the imposing sight of Lucius Malfoy sitting behind his desk. This was different than their interaction in his office. This was his home turf. Rita Skeeter swallowed thickly before returning the greeting.

"Good afternoon, Mister Malfoy," she placed her handbag beside her on the settee and proceeded to pull out her notebook and dicta-quill. It floated just above her shoulder and was at standstill, waiting patiently for her to begin. "Shall we get started?"

Lucius Malfoy raised a hand. "First things first, Miss Skeeter. Just before you left my office the other week, what were we discussing?"

"The Minister's legislative agenda," she replied. The memory of their encounter still fresh from her mind.

"Specifically?"

"Education," she perked up. "Was I right?"

"Do the math, Miss Skeeter," Lucius impatiently drawled.

Rita Skeeter resisted the urge to huff at the wizard's haughtiness and focused her mind instead on trying to fit all the pieces of their previous conversation. "He needs a bill..."

"Sponsored by?"

"Somebody with legitimacy," she thought for a moment, then shook her head in disbelief. "But the person with the most experience is—"

"Elphias Doge," Lucius finished for her.

"But he's an old-fashioned tax and spend stuck-up. Shacklebolt was more progressive than him."

"Exactly, which is why Shacklebolt needs my wife."

"To steer the bill to the center," Lucius only nodded in response. "I don't think Doge will talk to me. He's still salty about that book I published years ago about Albus Dumbledore. Maybe somebody in his office, if I butter them up. All I need is a few crumbs."

She heard a drawer opening and saw Lucius Malfoy stood. A bulky envelope was being levitated as he walked towards the side table where she now noticed a decanter of firewhiskey sat. With a flick of his wrist, the envelope was then unceremoniously dropped into her lap.

"How about a five-course dinner?" he said as he poured himself a glass.

Rita peeked inside the envelope and nearly gasped. "Is this what I think it is?" It was the education bill or at least a shredded draft of it. How in Circe's tits did he manage to get his hands on it?

She looked up to see Lucius Malfoy admiring the unmoving painting in front of him.

"Mr. Malfoy, we're in a very gray area, ethically, legally, which I'm totally okay with—"

"I just love this painting, don't you? My wife gave it to me on my fiftieth birthday," he interrupted her.

Rita Skeeter shifted her eyes to the unmoving painting. It was just two boys rowing on a small boat. There wasn't really anything extraordinary about it but she didn't dare voice it out loud.

Lucius Malfoy then turned around and fixed her with a cold dead stare. She would've cowered and withered if she wasn't used to a lot of people giving it but still, it was different when Lucius Malfoy did it. The fear she felt earlier manifested tenfold.

"We're in the same boat now, Miss Skeeter. Take care not to tip it over. If you do, I can only save _one of us_ from drowning."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized that this chapter was way too long so I had to cut Lucius and Rita Skeeter's conversation here. The flashback scene will be in the next chapter.


	6. Trip Down Memory Lane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: there are minor graphic descriptions of a corpse and implied rape/torture near the end of this chapter.

**[int:[way down we go | kaleo]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0-7IHOXkiV8)**

Penelope Clearwater was perched on her desk, lazily filing her fingernails to perfection. It was a slow day at work, meaning that her boss's plans must be going exceedingly well. It wasn't really a surprise. When Hermione sets her sights into something, she usually gets it one way or another—a trait she shares with her husband.

The main doors to the Head office opened and Penelope straightened her skirt and vanished the nail file. She grabbed the thick bundle of parchments that Blaise left earlier to give Hermione once she came back from her "lunch". Turning a corner, Penelope froze in her tracks when she spotted Theo instead accompanied by Percy Weasley.

She counted to three before taking a deep breath, mask falling into place.

"Good afternoon, Theo, Percy," she nodded a little stiffly to the latter. "How are you doing?"

"A little busy here and there but otherwise I'm perfectly alright," Theo smiled. "Percy here, on the other hand, is doing double time—well, more double than the usual."

"Oh, I wouldn't really call it double time."

Percy smiled sheepishly and looked down at his feet. If he wasn't holding anything, Penelope was sure he would fidget his hands.

"Oh, come on!" Theo clapped Percy on the shoulder a little enthusiastically. "It's perfectly normal for soon-to-be fathers to be working round the clock. You're feeding two people now."

Penelope felt all the air leave her lungs in one swoosh.

"Audrey's pregnant?"

Percy nodded proudly. A crooked smile gracing his lips—the one that used to make her heart flutter. "Three weeks," he confirmed.

"Oh. Congratulations," she said, her tone devoid of any emotion. Percy didn't seem to notice.

"Thank you, Penny."

She felt like being sucker-punched to the gut. It was his pet name for her back when they were still students at Hogwarts. They continued dating after they graduated but things changed drastically when the ongoing feud between Albus Dumbledore and Cornelius Fudge became much tenser. Her parents forbade her from seeing him, telling her that Percy had become one of those Ministry sycophants and they eventually lost all contact until after the second wizarding war was over.

In order to rekindle their relationship, she begged Hermione, who was four years her junior, to accept her as an assistant—a position she was more than qualified—just to get closer to him.

But in the end, Percy chose Audrey over her.

"Hermione's on her way back from her lunch," Penelope said a little hurriedly. Desperately wanted to escape his presence. "If you're willing to wait…"

The two wizards nodded and Penelope briskly walked ahead, leading them to the adjoining room of Hermione's office reserved for guests.

"Would you two like some tea or coffee perhaps?"

"No, thank you," Theo declined politely, still oblivious to the tension surrounding him. "We've just had lunch."

"Okay, then."

As soon as the two were settled, she hastily made her exit but stopped before the doors. She turned just in time to see Percy Weasley looking at her with sadness in his eyes.

* * *

_"We're in the same boat now, Miss Skeeter. Take care not to tip it over. If you do, I can only save one of us from drowning."_

Rita Skeeter understood Lucius Malfoy's words for what it was—a threat. Plain and simple.

"I won't," she reassured him. "If there is nothing else, then, shall we get started on the story?"

"Of course," Lucius grabbed another glass and poured her two fingers of firewhiskey. "Where would you like to start?"

"The beginning, if you would," she took a tentative sip and felt slightly smug when she didn't cough this time. "I'd like to know how you and your wife became reacquainted after the war."

"I supposed it started during the final battle," he walked back to the window and stared at the gardens. "Tell me, Miss Skeeter. Where were you at that time?"

"I was… I was hiding. Preparing to flee."

"So do we at that time—Narcissa and I. We were planning on fleeing the country to hide once we got Draco. We've had enough of him. Our things were already packed and ready and we're just waiting for the perfect timing. But things went sideways when my ex-wife forgot to tell me one vital information."

_Collective gasps could be heard across the Great Hall. No one was more surprised than the Dark Lord himself when Harry Potter once again defied death and rose for the second time. Like a fly that just won't die no matter how many times you swat it. And then Draco, in a sudden bout of heroism, ran across the Great Hall and threw his wand at the not-so-dead Harry Potter._

_It was then Lucius realized that his family had completely defected and he was the last one to make a choice. Between the Dark Lord and his family, you could hardly call it a choice. He grabbed Narcissa's hand and fled after their son who disappeared amongst the fighting._

_A green jet of spell whizzed past his wife, missing her by an inch and Lucius looked behind to see the Dark Lo—no, his name was Voldemort. It was time Lucius stopped thinking of that loathsome creature as his master. The Malfoys served no one but themselves. Lucius saw that Voldemort had fired the spell and was about to fire another when Harry Potter stepped in and the last thing Lucius saw as they turned around a corner was a bright huge spark when the spells of both wizards met in the middle._

_"Where could he be?" he heard Narcissa asked him._

_"He might've gone to the dungeons."_

_A spell went past him and singed a part of his hair. "Blood traitors!" he heard someone screamed._

_Lucius made to grab his wand out of reflex but then he realized that slimy noseless bastard had taken it. Before he could react, Narcissa pulled him away and fired back, hitting the unknown assailant squarely in the chest. Lucius smiled at his wife in gratitude and she squeezed his hand in return. Narcissa had always been an efficient fighter but he still hated feeling so useless. He was supposed to be the protector._

_"Let's go."_

_As they made their way, a large explosion coming from the marble staircase nearly knocked them off balance. Students were running in the opposite direction, away from the blast, but they still couldn't see any sign of their son. Lucius could feel that his wife was getting frantic as another equally large explosion sounded off._

_They could barely see as the entire place was filled with smoke and dust. Squinting so hard, his eyes were already tearing, trying to see through the haze. On the far end corner of the place was a pile of rubble and Lucius saw a familiar flash of blond hair underneath it. Oh no._

_"Draco!"_

_They both stopped in their tracks when they noticed that it wasn't just Draco lying unconscious on the ground. There, on top of him with her arms spread wide as if shielding their son, was Potter's Mudblood friend Hermione Granger. If it weren't for the blood trickling on her back, Lucius would've thought they were just sleeping. Narcissa levitated the rocks and knelt to examine the two._

_"Help," a frail voice sounded on the other side of the rubble. Lucius looked around and saw that it was Blaise Zabini, half of his body was trapped underneath a large piece of debris. Lucius pushed it off and helped the boy on his feet. "Thank you, Mr. Malfoy."_

_"What happened here?"_

_"Dolohov and Lestrange," Blaise coughed. "They tried to kill us. Draco and I didn't have our wands but Granger saved us."_

_"Can you still walk?" Lucius asked him and the boy nodded._

_"Lucius, she's bleeding a lot. We need to take them to St. Mungo's," Narcissa said._

_At his nod, his wife then instructed him to carry the girl while she levitated Draco._

_Lucius lifted the limp girl into his arms, surprised at how light she was. Her skin was drained of color every minute that passed. It wasn't the first time Lucius had seen her unconscious and bleeding. If this girl survived, whatever the outcome of the war, they're now forever in her debt._

"I didn't know about that part," Rita Skeeter said in a rush, completely enraptured by the story. "Everyone says you all fled the battle."

"Of course, that's what they would all say," he drawled. "We were holed up in St. Mungo's for the remainder of the war. We also took the time to arrange a couple of things when we found out—by the sudden cheers outside the hospital room—that Potter had finally vanquished Voldemort for good."

"What things?"

"My divorce, for one."

_Lucius stood on the other side of the room while his wife sat by their son's bed. He glanced to his left where the Mudlbood witch lay unconscious like his son._

_The healers said Draco's health was stable now and he should wake up anytime soon. They had Granger to thank for it because it was her who took most of the impact—something the healers kept saying to them every single time one of them would check up on Draco or her._

_He walked towards his wife and placed a hand on her shoulder._

_"Cissa, we need to talk," he sighed._

_"What is it?"_

_"The divorce—we have to start arranging it now."_

_"Lucius are you out of your mind?"_

_"Voldemort is gone and the Aurors will be here soon to take me away," he took her slim hands in his and squeezed it tight. "I'm not going to let the two of you suffer the consequences of my terrible choices in the past—not if I can do something about it. I want you and Draco to distance yourselves away from me. I will do whatever I can, form whatever deal to ensure the two of you will not face any trial."_

_"That's ridiculous!" His wife exclaimed. "I saved Potter's life!"_

_"And he saved Draco's so he owes us nothing. Lest you forget the Mudbl—" he stopped himself and spared a glance at the witch in question. No, he had to stop thinking like that if he ever wanted to survive in this new world. "Lest you forget that Potter's Muggleborn friend over there also saved our son during the final battle."_

_Narcissa's shoulder slumped and it was so jarring to see his wife lose her poise. The toll of his choices weighed heavily on her._

_"Cissa, you are a great wife—so much more than I could ever hope for when our parents had arranged this marriage—and I'll forever be grateful to you for giving me Draco. You deserve a great life but I don't think I can give it to you anymore."_

_"It really has come to this?"_

_"Don't look so shocked, my dear," he smiled resignedly at her. "We've been talking about this for a while now. We were only waiting for Draco to come of age so we wouldn't have to talk about custody."_

_She playfully slapped him on the arm. "Oh, you'll dare fight me over our son's custody?"_

_"Of course. What would people think if I just gave in to my wife's demands so easily?"_

_"Arse."_

_They stared at each other for a moment before bursting into a laugh—something they hadn't done in a while._

_"Just promise me you'll come and visit me in prison when things had died down. Severus is gone and I have no one else apart from you and Draco."_

_"It may not come to that, Lucius."_

_"I'm not getting my hopes up. I've already evaded Azkaban once. I don't think they'll fall for the same excuse again."_

_"We'll see ."_

"So Narcissa was the one behind the verdict?"

Lucius raised a finger and tapped it on his chin in a contemplative mood.

"That's what everyone thinks but I knew Narcissa. I kept going back to my memories of that day and my trial and the more I review it, the more I'm sure it wasn't my ex-wife."

"Then who was behind—oh," Rita Skeeter's eyes widened in surprise, her red-tinted lips forming an 'o' shape.

"Your guess is the same as mine, Miss Skeeter, but Hermione denies everything even until now."

A smirk was playing on his lips. Skeeter resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"Well, of course, she would deny it."

_Lucius Malfoy stood in the middle of the courtroom, proud as the day he was born. His wrists were cuffed with thick chains connecting it to the equally heavy cuffs on his feet. An Auror and his lawyer stood a few feet behind him. It was the same lawyer that finalized his and Narcissa's divorce._

_He looked up to his right where his now ex-wife sat at the top benches. He'd told her not to attend his trial but there she sat, her lips pressed in a tight frown. Thankfully, Draco had refused to be in attendance, sparing Lucius the humiliation of his son witnessing him in such a state._

_It had been a month since the Aurors took him away from St. Mungo's and placed him in a detention cell inside the Ministry. It was a relief since he expected to be thrown away immediately into one of the dingy cells of Azkaban._

_He was the last Death Eater to be put on trial—not that there were many Death Eaters left. From what he'd found out, as soon as Voldemort turned into a pile of ashes—how he wished he'd been a witness to that—most of his comrades either fought to their deaths or fled the scene. The ones the Aurors captured were the lowest of the low-ranking Death Eaters._

_Lucius also found out that the Lestrange Blaise Zabini was referring to was none other than his sister-in-law Bellatrix who—to his relief—died in battle at the hands of Molly Weasley._

_"How do you plead?" the booming voice of Tiberius Ogden echoed across the chamber, bringing Lucius back to the present._

_It felt like déjà vu. Ogden was the wizard who presided over Lucius's trial after the First Wizarding War and now, here sat the old bastard once again but this time, Lucius had no more plausible alibis or excuses left to present._

_"Guilty," he said clearly and calmly. "Guilty of all charges."_

_It was eerily quiet in the courtroom. Everyone fully expected him to plead not guilty and Lucius resisted the urge to look so smug at that. He needed to present a repentant image to the jury._

_I deserved this, Lucius thought as he tried to convince himself so._

_If not for the crimes they have listed before him, then for putting his own family at risk because of the foolish and rash decisions he made in the past. Never again will he let some monomaniacal dark lord dictate him._

_After the exchanging of testimonies between his lawyer and the prosecutor, the jury convened at the back of the courtroom surrounded by a thick layer of privacy charms. Why they had to take some time to discuss his sentence when he'd already pleaded guilty to all of his crimes was beyond him. He was tired and anxious to get this over with. On the bright side, there were no more dementors in Azkaban—as if there was still a happy memory left in him that they could suck out._

_Lucius scanned the crowd once more. Narcissa was still seated on the upper right. He smiled weakly at her and she returned the gesture. His eyes then traveled to the other side and he froze when his eyes landed on a pair of whiskey-colored eyes._

_Hermione Granger was staring at him, her face betrayed no emotion. Beside her sat the Boy Who Just Won't Die, Harry Potter._

_From what Narcissa had told him, the Granger girl gained consciousness four days after Draco did. Granger and Potter had managed to convince the Order to spare Narcissa and Draco any trial, claiming they were under duress at that time. Severus' memories from Potter also helped corroborate that story._

_Lucius wondered what they were both doing here in his trial. Probably to feel some satisfaction at seeing him being sentenced to Azkaban for life._

_Granger broke her gaze away from him to whisper something in Potter's ear. Lucius could tell it was unpleasant and it was about him for Potter's face turned into a grimace and he sneered in Lucius's direction. Potter then stood and left her side with a huff of indignation. But instead of heading to the door, he went to the back of the courtroom with the jury._

_After almost twenty minutes, the discussion was finally over. Potter went back to his seat beside Granger, a look of mild irritation masking his features. He whispered something that made the corner of her lips slightly turn up and Lucius felt confusion at the contrast to their expressions._

_Tiberius Ogden called the attention of the court again and Lucius stood once more to the middle to receive the verdict._

_"Mr. Malfoy, the majority of the Wizengamot has ruled in your favor. Instead of Azkaban, you will spend ten years on probation. Your wand will be confiscated and you will be prohibited from using the services of house-elves. The court will also require you to provide financial reparations and there will be weekly check-ups from an Auror that will be assigned to you. Any violation from the terms of your probation will result in immediate internment at Azkaban for the remainder of your probationary period," Tiberius Ogden announced._

_Lucius couldn't believe it and from the look of his lawyer, neither could he. He almost wept with relief that he would not be sent back to Azkaban. Lucius glanced to his left to find that Potter was gone and only Granger was sitting there staring at him. But this time there was a smug look on her face._

_The sound of the gavel smacking against the sound block was drowned out by the rumble of talking throughout the room._

_"Court is adjourned."_

* * *

One had to be well familiar with the twist and turns in Knockturn Alley to be able to traverse these narrow and dark alleyways at night.

Dennis Creevey pressed his body between a slim opening, letting the shadows engulf his hooded form. It was a neat little magic trick they've adapted from the Death Eaters back then and was now being taught at Auror training.

He pulled out a camera and took a few snaps of another hooded figure passing by, the device only emitted a muffled crick.

It was his brother's camera. After Colin died, most of his things were donated to a Muggle orphanage except the Muggle camera. Dennis made a few adjustments like removing the flash and adding some silencing charms to it—which really came very handy for this current errand he was doing for Blaise Zabini.

It was just a simple job, Zabini said. Follow Cormac McLaggen and take a few photos. Stay hidden. No questions.

Dennis had heard recently that McLaggen was appointed as the next Senior Undersecretary. The Ministry was probably doing a secret background check on him to make sure he's clean. It was not as if the guy was killing Muggles for sport like a Death Eater. McLaggen was in Gryffindor, for Merlin's sake!

It was now way past ten. Most of the shops in Diagon Alley would be closed but Knockturn Alley was just starting to come alive. All manner of seedy establishments lined up the street and Dennis had to wonder why the Ministry wasn't conducting any raids in any of them.

He continued to follow McLaggen stealthily as the latter led him deeper in, only one set of footsteps could be heard. Dennis thought that this spying thing was entirely amusing.

After turning another corner, McLaggen finally stopped in front of a dingy establishment and dropped his hood. Dennis immediately snapped two photos in quick succession. One is zoomed in on McLaggen's face while the other captured his surroundings.

A woman wearing skimpy clothing ushered McLaggen in and Dennis noticed that the establishment had no signs above it but he would bet his beloved camera that it was some kind of brothel. He already got a lot of incriminating photos of McLaggen but still, it wouldn't hurt to stake him out.

Dennis circled back to look for another entrance. Establishments like this were no different from the Muggle ones where there was a backdoor to use for escape when the police or, in this case, the Aurors conducted a raid.

He slipped inside once he found the said backdoor and pulled his hood tighter to his face as he made his way through each room. Nearly an hour later, he was down to the last two doors. The sound of a doorknob turning on his left made him sprint to the nearest alcove and pressed himself within the shadows.

Exiting the room was none other than Cormac McLaggen himself looking smug and freshly shagged, whistling as he made his way down the dimly lit hallway. Dennis pulled out his camera and waited for the woman McLaggen was with to come out so Dennis could take one last photo of them together but McLaggen had already disappeared to the lobby and no one came out.

He pushed himself off the wall and entered the room McLaggen just exited. The sight that presented Dennis almost made him faint. There, tied to the bed was a naked woman, her neck bent at an odd angle. Welts and marks covered most of her body as well as streams of blood, drool, and tears.

Dennis dropped his camera and staggered back. He'd seen dead bodies before, during the final battle, had even seen his brother's corpse being lifted towards the other pile of bodies, but this one completely shocked him through his core. He was rooted to the spot, felt his limbs frozen. Then the stench of sex in the room hit him. He doubled over and vomited on the spot, missing his camera by an inch.

_Take a few photos. Stay hidden. No questions._

Zabini's firm words rang in his head. Dennis took deep breaths through his mouth until he finally found the strength to move. He pulled out his wand and cleaned the pool of vomit on the floor. Picking up the camera, he steeled himself and took three photos of the dead woman from different angles. Hopefully, it'll be enough.

He quietly slipped back out unnoticed. Once Dennis was outside, he ran as fast as his legs would allow until he felt his lungs would combust. And then he stopped and cried harder than the day he held his brother's lifeless body.

_Colin, forgive me._


	7. The Source of Power

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the lack of Lumione interaction from the last two chapters. I hope this chapter makes up for it.

**[int:[this is hardcore | pulp]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JXbLyi5wgeg)**

Rows of chairs lined up the halls of the Ministry's Atrium. A platform was installed in front of the Fountain of Magical Brethren where the Minister will stand and deliver his inaugural speech in a few minutes. Hermione sat beside her husband three rows across from the platform and was busy trying to bore a hole through the back of Cormac McLaggen's head as the wizard sat on the very front row and was happily chatting with Theodore Nott and Arthur Weasley.

A gentle squeeze on her thigh broke her concentration. Hermione looked up to see Lucius smiling amusedly at her. He leaned forward and pretended to tuck a loose curl behind her ear.

"If looks could certainly kill, his head would've exploded by now."

"How I wish," she murmured under her breath. "That should've been me sitting there."

"And endure two agonizing hours pretending small talk with them? I don't think so," he shuddered, thinking of being seated next to Arthur Weasley.

"But Cormac's getting all the publicity!" she hissed.

"Fame doesn't' necessarily equate to power. Power is like real estate, my dear. It's all about location, location, location. The closer you are to the source, the higher your property value," Lucius lifted her left hand and pressed a brief kiss to her knuckles. A subtle reminder. "Years from now, when people look back at the photographs printed by the Prophet for today's event, who will they see smiling just at the edge of the frame?"

Lucius motioned to the edge of the platform where the press was situated. A couple of them were holding cameras that would look outdated in the Muggle world. A flash momentarily left her in a daze. The photographer edged closer, wanting to get a good shot of some of the important officials of the Ministry.

"In the next inauguration, it's you who will be standing there behind the podium. It's you who'll be the source," he lifted a finger and smoothed the frown between her eyebrows. "So, smile, Hermione. This is going to be the moment the people will eventually realize where it all began."

Cheers soon erupted from the crowd as Kingsley Shacklebolt finally took to the stands for the second time. Everyone stood and clapped their hands enthusiastically—all except two. Most of the photographers shifted their attention to the newly re-elected Minister for Magic but there were still a couple of them taking photographs of the crowd.

"…Today is not simply about the next six years. It's about the next six decades. You've placed your faith in me again, and I, in turn, choose to place that faith in our children. Now that the war is behind us, we must move forward and plan for our future. Our children are the key to our Wizarding community's future, and that's why the first order of business for this administration will be a comprehensive Education Reform Bill to properly fix, finance and strengthen our school," Kingsley Shacklebolt's first statement was met with more vigorous clapping and overenthusiastic cheering.

 _Spoken like a true politician,_ Lucius mused. _Whatever it takes to maintain your seat of power._

He knew how it felt. Before everything in his life fell to pieces, he was the one standing behind the seat of power—controlling, manipulating the system to his advantage. But now he had a different purpose. Lucius wouldn't be sitting behind anymore. No more lurking within the shadows. He will be there standing beside Hermione.

"Do you see now, my dear?" he asked his wife who was now gazing serenely across the crowd.

 _Soon,_ Hermione promised herself. She reached out and linked her hands with her husband who squeezed her hand in return. "I do."

And then she smiled, all pearly white perfect teeth.

* * *

The inauguration ball was held in a private hall in a Muggle hotel not far from the Ministry. The entire hall was decorated to the hilt complete with a band performing on stage. The old guards didn't really pay much attention to it. It was there for the younger members of the cabinet to enjoy.

Hermione liked The Hobgoblins as much as the next young witch or wizard although she couldn't be sure if the same could be said about her husband who kept flinching every time the drummer hit the cymbals way too hard. Well, at least Umbridge wasn't here.

"I need you to keep that smile up for an hour more," Hermione whispered near Lucius's ear.

She was met with a frown followed immediately by a withering glare. "Don't get cheeky on me now, witch."

"I'll make it worth your while later."

"Do you now?"

Hermione was about to reply when Vera Greengrass returned from the loo, taking her seat between Hermione and Gareth Greengrass.

"It was so nice of you to make this possible." Vera gushed. "When Lucius owled and—"

Hermione raised a hand and smiled at the Greengrass matriarch. "Not another word."

Across a few tables, the boisterous sound of McLaggen's voice reached Hermione's table and she fought the urge to whip her wand out and cast a bat-bogey hex. She may not be as accomplished at casting the hex as Ginny Weasley but Hermione was absolutely sure it'll hurt the same.

"'Your dog must be a genius,' the guy says. 'Nah,' says the other guy, 'He's pretty stupid. Every time he's got a good hand, he sniffs his ass.'," McLaggen joked and everyone even the neighboring tables who overheard the joke laughed at the punchline, even the Greengrasses. Hermione forced something of a smile that must've looked like a grimace because Lucius softly chuckled beside her.

"You're trying so hard, my dear," he rested a hand on her thigh. "That lovely face of yours will only get more lines."

Hermione was about to snap at her husband when Blaise came over to their table, a stoic expression on his face. "You need to see this," he whispered.

She flicked her eyes to Lucius who nodded his head in return. "Go do your thing," he said, giving her thigh a parting squeeze before letting her go.

Hermione kissed his cheek then excused herself and followed Blaise to the hallways through the service kitchen then out to the service entrance. It was a deserted alleyway, but Blaise led her to a corner and surrounded themselves with a handful of privacy charms just to be sure. You'll never know who might be listening.

"What is it?" Hermione broke the silence, as she leaned against a bricked wall.

Blaise pulled a thick envelope out of his robes and handed it to Hermione. "I had McLaggen followed the other night."

Hermione looked up. "You found us an errand boy? Do I want to know who?"

Her colleague shook his head. "It's better if you're in the dark about this. There's something we found out," he gestured towards the envelope.

Hermione swiftly tore the flimsy paper open and pulled out the contents. The photos are of a hooded person, who was clearly McLaggen, walking through Knockturn Alley. The photographs weren't moving, she noted. Hermione flicked through each photograph until she landed on the last three sets.

She instantly felt her inside turn ice cold at the image before her. It was a good thing that she was leaning her weight against the wall because her knees had suddenly felt weak.

"H—he… he did this?"

"According to my source, he's a frequent visitor," Blaise's voice was grave. He'd seen a handful of things throughout his life but this was something else. "That brothel caters to a lot of unconventional… cravings of the human flesh. The girls who worked there were mostly squibs like that woman. Girls who were disowned by their parents."

"Not welcomed on both worlds," Hermione murmured. "Shunned from the world you were born in for an anomaly in your body that you have no control of while forced to live in a life of shame and secret in a world completely foreign to you. Death would've been mercy."

"It's even worse than being a Muggleborn," Blaise agreed, his eyes widened momentarily when he realized who he was speaking to. "Oh, Hermione—"

She breathed out through her mouth as if she could smell the corpse through the photos. Blaise's words triggering a long-suppressed memory to the surface. Hermione suddenly pictured herself in the dead woman's position only instead of welts and a handful of claw marks on her arms, there was only a single mark etched across the entire skin: _Mudblood._

"Hermione, are you okay?" Blaise reached out to try and steady her, grabbing the stacks of photographs on her hands which she now realized were trembling.

Hermione pulled away from him, raising a hand to stop him from fussing. "I'm fine. Just relieving some… not so fond memories."

"Oh."

"Anyway," Hermione said, pushing away the dark thoughts for now. "This is too vague. We can't use this against McLaggen. We can't gain any traction from this."

"Why not?"

"Because it might be construed as two different photos. McLaggen can claim that he has nothing to do with it since there was no incriminating evidence aside from the fact that he entered a brothel. Nearly every single male who is sexually active does that. And since there's no incriminating evidence, he won't be subjected to a veritaserum investigation," Hermione let everything out in one whoosh. "And it's going to look like a targeted attack which it is but our real goal here is to make it look like it isn't. Who do you think the press will start throwing stones at? Who do you think has more to gain if McLaggen loses his nomination? Me. The vindictive witch who didn't get the dream position."

Blaise blinked a few times, processing everything. "Damn, Hermione. Has anyone ever told you you'd make a terrifying lawyer? The case would be over by the time you're finished."

She gave him a weak smile. "I may have heard that once."

He ran a hand through his short-cropped bright blond hair and sighed. "I'll try to look for a new angle but I'm not going to let this go completely."

Hermione nodded and patted Blaise on the shoulder. "You did good there, Blaise. If anything, you gave me more reason to destroy him."

"Just… keep it between us. I have a reputation to maintain," he pulled away and leaned against the wall, pulling out a pack of cigarettes as he did. "Want one?"

"No. I think I better head back to Lucius. Who knows what he's been up to since I was gone? I might have to rescue everyone from a hostile takeover."

The two of them snickered at the thought of the Malfoy patriarch taking over the party.

"I think I'll stay out here for a few minutes. Try and clear the images from my mind," Blaise sighed as he puffed out a cloud of smoke. "See you tomorrow, boss."

Hermione nodded and proceeded to head back inside.

* * *

Lucius knew that something was amiss when Hermione came back to him half an hour later. He'd just finished dancing with the elder witch Griselda Marchbanks when he spotted Hermione entering the hall with an inscrutable expression on her face. What she and Zabini had discussed must've been grave. Hermione is a witch who isn't shaken so easily.

New music started to play. Lucius sauntered over to his wife and held out his hand to her.

"May I have this last dance, _ma petite lionne_?"

"You most certainly may," she gave him a wary smile and it only confirmed his suspicion.

Lucius led them both to the middle of the dance floor and they glided through with practiced ease as the music played.

"Have I told you that you're a vision tonight? That dress brings out the color of your eyes," when Hermione didn't acknowledge the compliment, Lucius started to worry. "What happened back there?"

He felt Hermione tensed for a moment before relaxing in his arms.

"Later," was her only reply.

And Lucius didn't press for more. He trusted that she'll tell him eventually in her own time. And if she didn't, well, he has his ways to make her talk.

* * *

Rita Skeeter strode through the headquarters of the Daily Prophet in Diagon Alley. A silence descended everyone as she made her way to the chief editor's office not because she was carrying an obscene amount of parchment in her arms but because of the lack of spontaneity in her outfit. The witch never missed an opportunity to turn the hallways into a runway of her own, showing off her bizarre sense of fashion.

"Where have you been? I've been owling you all day! Everyone's been working double time on the inauguration and you just up and disappeared," Barnabas Cuffe, the current editor-in-chief of the Prophet yelled through the glass walls of his office. "And what the hell are you wearing?"

"I have no time to pick an outfit today," she said as she dumped the stack of parchments on his desk.

"What is this?" Barnabas said as he flicked parchment after parchment. He froze when he realized it was the draft for Shacklebolt's education bill. "Wait… is this… where the hell did you get this?"

"The right question is: how soon can we put this up?"

"Wait, wait, wait," he held up a hand. "Let's get legal on this first—make sure we're not breaking any laws. And I want a litigation assessment. The last thing I need is Shacklebolt grinding on my arse for this. You won't tell me your source?"

"I can't do that."

"Fine. But if legal—"

"I understand. How long do you think that will take? We should get this printed right away," Rita insisted.

"I'm not just going to copy a 600-page document and put it up before we've gone through every—"

"I did that already," Rita Skeeter pulled out a thin stack of parchment from her purse and handed it over to her editor.

"You read the whole thing?" Barnabas asked, surprised.

"Cover to cover. I've got excerpts. Analysis. Three thousand words ready for editing," Rita rolled her eyes when Barnabas continued to gape at her. "Give me some credit here, Barnabas. I've been writing some credible news for the past few years."

That seemed to snap him out of his daze. "Alright. I want you to work with Betty Braithwaite on this and start working on the tables, charts, the whole nine yards," Barnabas stood and opened his door. "Betty! I need you here!"

Betty Braithwaite was the woman who interviewed Rita Skeeter when she released a book about the life Albus Dumbledore. The woman was quick and sharp-witted. Rita was pleased that Barnabas chose her.

"What's the angle on this, five words?" he asked as he tapped his quill against the desk.

"Far left of center."

Barnabas shook his head. "That's four."

" _Very_ far left of center."

"Enough to put Shacklebolt on his heels?"

"Screw his heels," Rita rolled her eyes. "This will put him on his ass."

Barnabas smirked. "Very well then. Let's get started."

* * *

Lucius woke with a start, the book lying on his chest landed with a muffled thud on the floor. He reached out instinctively for Hermione, feeling only the crisp, cool sheets where she wasn't. It was half past 2 am and his wife was still downstairs.

They left the inauguration party after they've made their usual rounds of social interaction. Lucius was about to bring up the question again when Hermione gave him a peck on the cheek and told him that she needed to go over a couple of things from work, leaving Lucius staring after her retreating form.

He waited, passing the time by going over some work of his own and when that was done, he did some light reading until he unintentionally fell asleep.

Pulling a dressing gown over him, Lucius made his way down in search of his wife. The library was empty and so was his study. There was also no sight of her in the gardens and conservatory.

 _Had she left?_ But he could still feel her aura, the buzz of her magic throughout the Manor.

"Winky."

The house-elf appeared instantly with a small pop. "Yes, master?"

"Have you seen Hermione?"

Winky looked down for a moment before answering. "Mistress is in that room, sir. The drawing room. Mistress is in there for hours."

Lucius dismissed the elf and made his way to the drawing room. An unanswered question during the first year of their marriage came to mind. Why didn't she let him remodel the drawing room that clearly reminded her of traumatic memories?

The door was half opened when he reached the said room. Lucius quietly slipped inside and immediately saw his wife sitting by the dried blood on the floor, hugging her knees to her chest. Three sets of photographs and a pack of cigarettes were lying on her other side.

"Sometimes, I forget who I am when I'm with you," she softly said, her back still turned to him.

"Hermione," he called out to her as he made his way over. "What are you talking about?"

"I know that I'm not the only one who has terrible memories of this room and I know you've been wondering why I was against you remodeling this," Hermione looked up as Lucius knelt in front of her, leveling his eyes with hers. "But I needed the reminder, Lucius. That just because I'm married to you doesn't make me one of you. I don't want to lose focus."

Somehow, Lucius understood what she meant. But he couldn't understand why now? After six years, why did she suddenly bring this up? "Hermione, what brought this on?"

"He gets off on inflicting pain on to them," Hermione whispered but in the dead silence of the night, Lucius could clearly hear it. "Not the kind of pain one usually enjoys during sex but a hateful one. The kind of pain that induces fear."

"Who?"

"Cormac McLaggen. Blaise had him followed the other night," she lifted one of the photographs for Lucius to see. "She's a squib disowned by her parents. Forced to sell herself just to survive. A fate worse than being a Muggleborn."

His eyes hardened when he realized what the images were. Even in his Death Eater days, Lucius had never seen something this gruesome. Even Bellatrix, with her penchant for torture, never got off on doing something so wretched as this. The only other person Lucius knew who could be this sadistic was Antonin Dolohov and Lucius said a silent prayer of thanks to Merlin that Dolohov was rotting in a cell in Azkaban right now.

"Muggleborns, squibs… they're the reason why I'm fighting so hard, Lucius. You may not comprehend how much that means to me but I need you on my side."

Yes, he might not understand and it may not be his fight but that didn't mean he couldn't be there for her. _I will be whatever you need me to be._ Lucius had promised her that six years ago. He is, if anything, a man of his words.

Hermione must've seen something in his expression because the next thing Lucius knew was her lips crashing onto his, soft and supple. After all these years, it never failed to take his breath away.

And then his hand was on her face, gently cradling her cheek as he pressed his lips back on hers, his mouth parting almost immediately. Lucius felt her open herself to him and he tasted her, their tongues clashing with a dance of their own. Possessive and hungry and thrilled.

He felt her match his fervor. Her mouth worked against his own. Her hand came up and brushed across his neckline, skimming the edges of his dressing gown before resting lightly on his chest. Even through the thick clothes, her hand felt branded on his skin.

Lucius peeled these layers off her urgently, efficiently. Vaguely aware of how she matched him still. Dress for a dressing gown. A shirt, a ribbon, a bra. The quiet purr of zips. Urgent, determined, slightly trembling hands as they each divested the other of their sartorial impediments between long snatches of locked lips. Time moved sluggish and swift, and the room spun and stilled.

She pressed her lips to the spot just above his right nipple and he sucked his teeth involuntarily before he cupped her face with both his hands and supped fully from her mouth, her lips already swollen from countless such punishing, searching kisses. Slowly, Lucius dropped her on the floor, shoving the photographs and pack of cigarettes aside before stretching himself along the length of her lithe, flawless body. She kissed his eyes so they closed, grazed her lips against his ear so he shuddered. He sank his teeth softly into her neck and heard her moan.

Hermione stirred restlessly beneath him, clutching at his arms. She bit at her lip as he pressed kisses into the curve of her neck, down to the valley between her breasts. And then, in a surprising display of strength, she turned and flipped him, his back landing on the dried blood on the floor. Lucius was sure the blood would stick to the skin on his back. Hermione straddled his hips, sliding her mound across the length of him. Both muttered a string of curses as pleasure came through the heated friction. And then she sank all the way down onto him, her breath knocked from her lungs on a moan as her body accommodated him.

"Oh, gods!"

"Merlin, fuck!"

Lucius watched as her eyes roll back before her lids slid close, as she bites her lower lip. A vision he never grew tired of witnessing. He took a deep, shuddering breath and ran a hand up her side to cup a breast as she rode his hardened length to oblivion. Higher, higher, higher they went until Lucius couldn't take the pacing anymore and pushed himself off the floor. Circling an arm across her waist, his hand digging in her hip while the other anchored him from the floor, he began to set the rhythm, each thrust was met with the sweetest of moans.

As her breasts were pressed against his chest, one of her arms circled across his back while the other rested around his neck. As Lucius pushed himself deeper into her, Hermione's nails raked down his back firmly, drawing blood. And it's when Lucius realized, with a strange fascination, that Hermione's dried blood that had clung to his back had mixed with his. In his past life, the notion would make him shiver in disgust. But now it only made him hiss with pleasure.

And so he took her—thoroughly, roughly, almost violently even as something within him softened against his will. But still, he pummeled her, plundered her, his own control barely holding by a thread as he claimed her time and time again—body and soul and everything in between.

The moment she melted, the moment he felt her clenching helplessly around his cock, he spilled into her, a deep anguished groan mingling with her strangled cry.

Lucius was still breathing heavily underneath her when she reached out to her side to fetch a cigarette. As the match rasped and the flame ignited the tip, his hands came about her side, her body nesting into him with a kiss to her nape.

She stared into his face now, her expression perhaps a mirror of his own. Solemn. Unsmiling. Gaze unflinching. But then, suddenly, her face broke into a smile so small and tender that he leaned in unthinkingly and pressed his lips to hers. She held his face to hers with one slender hand and when she finally broke away from him, her sigh was one of contentment that he secretly shared.

"He will go down. One way or another," he declared, circling his fingers around her hand, lifting the cigarette from between her slender fingers to take a drag. "I promise you that."

And Hermione believed him.


	8. The Curious Case of Harry Potter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mostly Harry-centric.

**[int:[so far | olafur arnalds ft. arnor dan]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gKy8dq06zjk)**

Hermione was clutching her head with both hands, trying to massage the headache away. The Daily Prophet's morning edition was sprawled in front of her. The headline on the front page didn't make it any easier for the headache to dissipate.

She and Lucius continued to talk after that impromptu sex on the floor of the drawing-room. Hermione finally agreed to have the said room renovated. Everything will be stripped and replaced except the chandelier that Dobby unscrewed, nearly killing the witch who tortured her. It was only when Winky announced that breakfast was ready that they realized they stayed up through the night.

A knock on the door made her groan out loud.

"I take it you have read the news," she heard Blaise said as he entered her office carrying two cups of steaming coffee, a stack of letters tucked underneath his arm. "You look like shit too."

Hermione took the offered cup and smiled gratefully at her chief-of-staff, "Thanks for the compliment. Who's the other unlucky person?"

"Penelope arrived a few minutes earlier than you looking the worse for wear. I'm afraid I gave her our last stock of Invigoration Draught."

"It's fine," was her only reply as she picked up the first letter, tearing the seal. "It's from Draco. Asking if I could meet with him for lunch."

"I don't see why you couldn't. You have a clear schedule today," he glanced at the papers on her table. "That's some leak there."

Hermione pushed the newspaper for Blaise to see clearly. "I honestly have no idea how that got out. Elphias Doge assured me that he has no other copy of it."

"Do you reckon Skeeter has a spy inside?"

"Maybe. Everyone knows Doge will never talk to Rita Skeeter."

There was a knock again and Penelope, who still looked like she was trampled by a thousand hippogriffs despite the Invigoration Draught potion, stepped inside. "There's a memo from up top. Theo wants to see you in his office."

"I'm surprised it took him this long," Blaise mused.

"He probably spent two hours getting reamed by Shacklebolt," Hermione mused. "Penelope, send an owl to Draco. Tell him I'll meet him in Diagon Alley for lunch. I need to stock up some potions anyway."

Penelope nodded. "I'm sorry I used the last potion."

"Don't be. I heard Kingsley congratulate Percy last night," Hermione pushed herself off the table and grabbed her robe hanging on the back of her chair. "Take the rest of the day off after this. You too, Blaise. We need to get as much rest as we can. This is only the beginning."

"I have one more thing to do before I pack for the day," Blaise said as he followed Penelope and Hermione out of the office. "Say hi to Draco for me."

"I will."

* * *

Harry absentmindedly flicked a sickle through his knuckles as he waited for the lift to arrive. He was hoping to catch a word with Hermione today after missing her during the inauguration party last night. Robards and Williamson kept topping up his champagne glass and regaling him with old Ministry tales back during the First Wizarding War and by the time Harry managed to escape them, he spotted Hermione going out back with Blaise Zabini while Lucius Malfoy was busy schmoozing with the other officials.

Harry decided to wait by the bar in fear of being cornered again by his superiors. Nearly half an hour later, Hermione went back in alone but Harry could tell that something was off about her. He was about to go and ask her but was interrupted by Lucius Malfoy asking her to dance with him. Harry never got the opportunity to speak with her and left the party early instead.

The sound of the lift arriving interrupted his thoughts and Harry was about to step inside when the doors to the other lift also opened. Blaise Zabini came out and headed towards the main office of the Auror department, not noticing Harry standing just a few feet away.

Curiosity was such an interesting concept for Harry. The way the mind worked, how it processed. His curiosity got his godfather, Sirius Black, killed. His curiosity landed him in a position where he saw his mentor, Albus Dumbledore, killed in front of his very eyes. Curiosity was also the reason why Harry, now covered in his Invisibility Cloak, secretly followed Blaise Zabini as the latter walked briskly to the deserted corner of this level with Auror trainee Dennis Creevey in tow.

They were standing on a darkened hallway near the storage room and was already in a heated discussion by the time Harry caught up to them. He cautiously edged closer. Blaise may not have Auror training in him but Creevey could spot Harry easily despite being entirely covered by the cloak.

"I don't owe you anymore. I've already done what you asked!" Creevey hissed. "I thought—"

"You thought what?" Blaise interrupted. "That after you've done that little errand, I'll forget those packages you anonymously sent here? I own you, Creevey. Unless you want to get kicked out of Auror training and spend a few years in Azkaban, I suggest you become the obedient little boy that you are."

Creevey looked down resignedly but kept his mouth shut.

Blaise stepped forward, nearly towering the younger wizard. "Remember this moment when you resisted me. When you said the words, 'I don't owe you anymore.'"

"Blaise I'm—"

"Get a good night's sleep, trainee Creevey," Blaise cut him off. "You have a long week ahead of you."

Blaise gave one last piercing look before storming off. Harry was about to go after Blaise but stopped when he heard muffled sniffling behind him. Dennis Creevey was hastily wiping his eyes with the sleeves of his robes. Harry took one step forward, about to reveal himself but immediately stopped.

Curiosity was such an interesting concept. Ten years ago, Harry wouldn't hesitate to confront Creevey with the things he had discovered. But something deep within him held him back. Lucius Malfoy's words—of all people—replayed at the back of Harry's mind. _We're playing a different game now._

And so Harry fled to Lucius Malfoy himself.

Curiosity was such an interesting concept for Harry.

* * *

"You were supposed to keep Elphias Doge in line!" Theodore Nott bellowed as he paced back and forth behind his desk while Hermione sat demurely across him, picking a speck of imaginary dirt from her nails. "You assured me that you—"

"Twenty-five years he's been pushing this particular agenda," Hermione interrupted him calmly not looking up. "We got between the mother bear and her cub. It's a setback, that's all."

Theo stopped his pacing and narrowed his eyes at her. "On our first day in office."

"Theo, I've worked with a lot of laws since I became the head Auror," Hermione wanted to roll her eyes at him. Technically this was their _second_ first day in office. Theo made it seem like Shacklebolt hadn't messed up a few legislations back during his first term. "Setbacks, as the Americans say, are dime a dozen with a bill of this size."

"Hermione, if you can't control this—"

And there it was. The threat. Hermione finally looked up, meeting his glare with her own equally strong one, if not more so.

"I don't take well to being micromanaged, Theo," she shot back. "You want to do my job for me and run the Ministry? Good luck. I won't stand in your way."

They stared at each other for a moment. Weighing. Calculating. Sizing up one another. Something she noticed they often do recently. This time, Hermione didn't give in.

"Okay, Hermione. Fine. This is yours now," it was Theo who broke the silence. "If this thing can't make it to the floor in the first hundred days, then I'll let you explain to the Minister why he lied to the entire Wizarding community."

It was a challenge. One he expected her to fail. But she's Hermione Malfoy nee Granger. It'll take more than a goddamn bill to make her fail. _Forward is the battle-cry._

She stood and smoothed out the wrinkles on her clothes. "Is there anything else, Theo?"

The wizard turned away and faced the window, observing Hermione through the reflection.

"No, that will be all."

* * *

"So, what's so important that you had to invite me out to lunch?" Hermione asked in between bites of her smoked salmon.

"Can't I just say that I missed your company?" Draco whined as he poked his untouched osso buco.

Hermione dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin before fixing him with a look that says 'bullshit'. "You could've come to the Manor or visited me at work but instead you dragged me out here in a Muggle restaurant you haven't been to and outside of your father's earshot. Plus, you haven't touched your food."

"Okay, fine. You're worse than father, you know that?" Draco ran a hand across his face as he sighed. He stared at his food a moment before speaking. "Astoria's pregnant. Two weeks."

"Oh. Congratulations, Draco," But Hermione knew that something was wrong by the somber look on Draco's face. "Aren't you supposed to be happy? I know you two have been trying to have a baby."

He took a large swig of his wine instead, wishing he was drinking something stronger. "What do you know about blood malediction?"

"Not much," Hermione pursed her lips in thought. "I know it's a curse that is passed down to generations. Cures are quite rare though. Why do you ask?"

"One of Astoria's ancestors was cursed. But her father believed that the curse was now broken since it never appeared for generations," he looked away then. "Not until now."

"Astoria," Hermione whispered horrified.

"The curse slowly saps all of her life force and it manifested when she became pregnant. We have the choice to terminate the pregnancy and possibly save her or continue and risk losing her and the unborn child," he explained. "I told her that it's okay, that I don't care if the Malfoy line ended with me but Astoria is adamant in continuing the pregnancy and I know father will only encourage her. That's why I didn't want him to know yet."

She reached out and squeezed Draco's hand. "I'm so sorry Draco."

"I'm not giving up hope yet," he smiled sadly and squeezed her hand in return. "I won't stop looking for a cure whatever it takes."

Having children was a luxury Hermione didn't have. Not because she didn't want to or never had the time. It's something that was taken away from her at such a young age. But if she was in Astoria's shoes, there was no doubt that Hermione would take the risk.

"When are you going to tell father about it?" Draco asked, sensing where her thoughts had gone off.

"He doesn't need to know," she said defensively. "We agreed that there'll be no children in this marriage."

"That's because you two are so focused on whatever world domination you're trying to achieve. When he finds out about Astoria, it's only a matter of time before father brings up the topic of children again. He's still in his prime, you know?"

Hermione looked up Draco in the eye, gauging how much she could trust him with her thoughts and fears. Considering he confided in her about Astoria, Hermione thought it's only fair she tells him.

"I'm afraid," she began. "Afraid that he'll leave me when he finds out that I can't have children."

"Oh," Draco blinked. He was surprised by the vulnerability in her tone. "Hermione, I don't think he will just up and leave you because of that. Hell, he agreed to a blood binding ceremony for your marriage. If that doesn't scream devotion then I don't know what will. He loves you. I promise you he won't leave. And if he did, he'll also lose a son in the process."

Hermione was surprised by the intensity in his eyes. She didn't know Draco felt that way about his relationship with Lucius. "I will tell him but not now. Not when we are thick in the middle of something. Just promise me, Draco. Swear that you won't tell him."

"I won't tell me him unless you ask me to. You have my word, Hermione," then Draco chuckled, it was strained considering the gravity of their previous discussion. "It's funny because this was not really the reason why I invited you out to lunch."

"What do you mean?"

"I received an owl this morning from Rita Skeeter, asking if she could interview me about you and father. I don't know what father said but Skeeter seemed to think I was the reason why you two got together. Like I'm some pimp!"

"Well, you had a hand in it," Hermione smiled, the atmosphere seemed to lighten up a bit. "You already know what story to tell her."

"I do, but I'm curious though. When did your plans change? I know you only wanted to make father indebted to you so he would help you in return, but something changed."

Hermione retreated to the back of her mind, trying to find the said 'moment' Draco was referring to in her memories.

"I think it was the day Lucius was pardoned," she answered. "We started seeing a lot of each other after that night I found him half-dead in a Muggle alley."

"The day he went missing?" Draco said incredulously, his voice pitched a little higher. Some of the patrons glanced in their way, annoyed at having their lunch disturbed. "I should've known it was you who found him not—"

Draco sucked in a breath as if he was burned. And then silence. It's funny how the atmosphere could change with just an unspoken word, Hermione thought. Draco tried to look away but she pinned him with her stare.

"You should talk to Harry, Draco," Hermione urged. "It's been years."

"What's the point, Hermione? We can't go back to the way things were after the war. I'm with Astoria now and he's with Ginny. Let's face it. We're always meant to hate each other."

She wanted to tell him that, no, Harry didn't hate him and, no, Harry and Ginny aren't really together but like Draco said, what's the point, anyway? Hermione sighed and picked up her knife and fork.

"Let's just finish our meal. I need to drop by an apothecary shop and replenish my stock of Invigoration Draught for my office."

Draco nodded and proceeded to eat his cooled osso buco, not bothering to cast a warming spell over it.

* * *

Harry remembered the first time he set foot inside the Manor after the war was over. His first task as an Auror was to check up on Lucius Malfoy weekly as part of his probation. Kingsley Shacklebolt ordered it but Harry suspected that Hermione was behind it even though she was still in Hogwarts finishing her NEWTS. Like how she was behind Malfoy's court verdict and his early pardon later on.

And now here Harry stood again after many years but under different circumstances.

"Master is in the drawing-room," the elf informed him.

The drawing-room. The room where Hermione was tortured. The room where Dobby was killed. _What in Merlin's name was he doing in there?_

"I'd say it's a pleasant surprise but I was actually about to send an owl to you," Lucius Malfoy greeted Harry as the latter stepped inside.

If it weren't for the chandelier that Dobby unscrewed years ago, Harry would have thought that he's not in the same room. The entire room was stripped away, from the paint on the walls to the tiles on the floor. Most of the corner moldings were chiseled out as well as some of the other intricate carvings on the walls. The tall windows were replaced by smaller ones high above that only permitted minimal light to filter through.

"Are you… redecorating?"

"Ah, yes," Malfoy's eyes lit up. "Hermione finally agreed. I was thinking of turning it into an extension of our library and a potions laboratory. I've already converted the dungeons into a stock room."

Harry's attention was shifted to the stairs at the far end that led to the dungeons where he, Ron, Luna, Mr. Ollivander, and Griphook were imprisoned.

"Wait. Do you mean to tell me that Hermione forbade you from renovating this room? The very same room she was tortured in?"

Malfoy ignored the statement and walked over to Harry instead. In his hand was a stack of photographs. Unmoving, Harry noticed. "Tell me, Potter. Do you know any Muggleborns in the Auror department that has an affinity for photography?"

Harry took the photos and almost instantly dropped them when he realized what they were. "What the fuck, Malfoy? What is this?"

"Language, Potter," Malfoy strode to the other side of the room where a small table stood with a decanter of what Harry assumed was firewhiskey. "Mr. Zabini had someone follow Cormac McLaggen days ago. He didn't tell Hermione who it was he 'hired' but I assumed it was an Auror, judging by how it managed to successfully trail McLaggen without being noticed. Plus, the photograph was unmoving. Obviously, a Muggle camera was used."

"Jesus fucking Christ, did McLaggen do this?" Harry dropped the photographs on the floor and ran a hand through his messy mop of dark hair. Malfoy rolled his eyes at Harry's use of expletives but also confirmed his question. "Fuck!"

And then it clicked to Harry. Like pieces of a large puzzle snapping into place. Hermione and Blaise talking in the back alley last night. Hermione coming back to the party looking off. Blaise threatening Creevey this morning. Dennis Creevey, younger brother of deceased Colin Creevey. Colin Creevey and his Muggle camera. _Shit._

"Creevey what have you done?" Harry muttered to himself. He looked up to see Malfoy staring at him expectantly. "It wasn't an Auror. Well, not yet anyway."

"A trainee?"

Harry nodded. "Dennis Creevey. His older brother was Colin Creevey. Colin was a year younger than me and he used to carry that Muggle camera with the large flash with him anywhere he went. He died during the battle at Hogwarts."

"Why do you think it was him? It could be anyone," Malfoy slowly paced in front of Harry. The younger wizard could feel the gears inside Malfoy's head turning, plotting.

"Can I get a drink first? And for Merlin's sake, stop pacing. You're making my head spin," Harry lifted his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. Malfoy merely raised an eyebrow at him before heading back to his decanter of firewhiskey.

"Here," Malfoy handed out the glass. "Now explain."

"Okay, okay, sheesh. You're as impatient as Hermione when it comes to information, you know that?" but Malfoy only smirked at him. _Bastard_. Harry downed the glass in one gulp. "There had been incidents in the past weeks. Someone had been sending packages containing some explosive spells. It wasn't that fatal and no one was gravely injured but it caused a lot of property damage in the Ministry."

"Then this morning, I spied Blaise and Creevey arguing. I overheard Blaise threatening to turn Creevey over to the authorities about the packages if Creevey refused to do what Blaise says."

"Hmm, interesting," Malfoy mused as he took a sip of his firewhiskey, a faraway look in his eyes.

"Interesting? Your wife's chief-of-staff is blackmailing a fellow government employee and that's all you have to say? I can't believe this! It was a mistake coming here."

Harry shoved the glass he was holding in Malfoy's hands and proceeded to exit the room but before he could reach the door, it suddenly slammed shut on him.

"You and I both know that I would never deliberately do anything that would put Hermione in danger, nor would I let anything sully her public image," Malfoy's voice echoed across the room. "There's a reason why Hermione is in the dark about this. Think about it, Potter. The two of us aren't the only ones who are willing to sacrifice themselves for her."

This fact didn't surprise Harry. "But if this gets out of hand, whatever Blaise was planning backfired on him, Hermione would still be involved. Her name will get dragged through the mud."

"Then we'll do everything in our power to prevent it from happening. But for now, I want you to stay put and keep an eye on them."

"That's not really helpful," Harry rolled his eyes at Malfoy.

"You know, Draco told me the sorting hat wanted to place you in Slytherin," Harry tensed up at the mention of Malfoy's son. "You were right in asking it to place you in a different house. You would've been eaten alive in Salazar's house."

Harry scoffed at that. "As if I care about your goddamn house," he turned around and headed for the door. "I'm leaving. I'll owl you if anything comes up."

Malfoy's voice stopped him at the threshold.

"Potter," Harry turned around to see Malfoy looking at him oddly. "I know my opinion won't matter to you, but I want you to know that I appreciate your devotion to Hermione."

"Of course. She's family."

"I know," Malfoy turned away and stared at a spot in the room. _You should stop calling him Potter. He's part of the family now._ He shook the memory away. "My son was a fool for pushing you away. He doesn't deserve you."

Tears pooled beneath Harry's eyes at the words and he was grateful that Malfoy was facing away. Harry quietly slipped out of the room, wiping the tears away as he disapparated into the night.


	9. A Promising Student

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't count the number of times I've rewritten this chapter. Ugh.

**[int:[this is my world | esterly ft. austin jenckes]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8vouZA1vhMM)**

**Eight years ago.**

Hermione had rearranged the stack of parchments on her desk in a neat pile for the hundredth time. Harry, who she shared an office with, was slouching against his seat, idly twirling a sickle through his knuckles. It was a dull, monotone day at work that mostly comprised of unfinished paperwork from last week's equally boring raid but Hermione was glad for the reprieve. She and Ron are going to have dinner at the Burrow tonight and the thought of Molly Weasley bombarding her with questions about marriage and future children made her feel on edge.

It's not that Hermione didn't want to get married. She and Ron had decided to put it off in the meantime to focus on their respective careers. Hermione's still on the bottom of the totem pole, having only passed the Auror training six months ago. Receiving high NEWTS scores didn't really do much for her aside from securing a slot at the Auror academy. There's still a long way to go before she could settle down with Ron.

That, and the fact that she can't have kids. Ron knew, of course. He was there at the Hogwarts infirmary when Madam Pomfrey told her that Dolohov's curse during the Department of Mysteries battle had damaged her reproductive organs permanently, preventing her from carrying a child. But Ron assured her that it won't change anything between them.

The gravity of the news hadn't really sunk in with her. Hermione didn't really give much thought about her future after Hogwarts, what with the war going on, and worrying if she'll be able to make it out alive.

When Molly first brought up the topic of children, Hermione froze and panic had started to creep in. Ron placed a comforting hand over hers, answered his mother's questions for her—which Hermione was extremely grateful—but as the months wore on, she could tell that the pressure of keeping her secret was beginning to weigh him down.

The dinners became a dreadful affair for Hermione and had resulted in heated fights between the two, with her spending most nights at Harry's or staying up late in her office until she was sure Ron was asleep. Tonight was not any different. If only a miracle would occur and save her from this predicament.

Her answer came in the form of a disheveled looking Draco Malfoy barging in their office still in his healer robes.

"He's missing!" Draco said in between deep breaths.

"Who's missing?"

"What happened?"

Harry and Hermione both bolted from their chairs and asked Draco simultaneously. Harry grasped Draco's hand as the latter tried to regain his breathing.

"Father," Draco replied, wiping the sweat from his brows. He took a deep breath before straightening himself.

Hermione stepped over her desk and urged him to take a seat. "Wasn't Mr. Malfoy pardoned this morning?" She knew, of course. Hermione was actually behind the idea claiming there is still a great deal of tension between Purebloods and Muggleborns and isolating the other group from the new world the Ministry is creating would only strengthen that friction. Pardoning nonviolent or defected Death Eaters like Lucius Malfoy and Corban Yaxley would be a great start at building the torn bridge.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Harry giving her a curious look.

Draco nodded and started to explain. "He was ecstatic when the news came. He'd been dying to get out of the house after being holed up in there for over two years. We agreed to meet for dinner at the La Finestra after my shift ended but he never came. I checked the Manor but the elves said he hadn't returned yet since he left that morning. Father would owl me if something came up."

Harry pondered for a moment. "Normally we'd have to wait 24 hours before filing a missing case report but your father's a high-profile wizard. Plus, we still haven't caught Antonin Dolohov and Rabastan Lestrange."

Draco visibly gulped. "Do you think they've…" he'd left the unasked question hanging in the air.

"It's a possibility to consider," Hermione said. "Your family defected from the war, Draco, and some of your former… acquaintances are still out there. Where did your father last go to?"

"He dropped by the Ministry first to sign some papers regarding his pardon then he said was going to get a new wand and do some retail therapy," Draco rolled his eyes at the thought of his father shopping.

"He could've visited your company's office," Harry suggested but Draco shook his head no.

"Your mother's?" Hermione piped in.

"She's in Venice with a friend."

Harry sighed, raised his glasses, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Alright, here's what we're going to do. 'Mione, I want you to look at the last place Mr. Malfoy went to and look for traces of his magical signature. That's your specialty," he then looked at Draco. "Draco, you will go back to the Manor and try to look for clues or contact any of his associates to see if he'd paid them a visit. I'll ask around the lurkers in Knockturn Alley if they know something. We can't alert the others yet until we find some evidence of foul play."

Feeling energized all of a sudden, Hermione jumped immediately into action. She put her robes on and tucked her wand in her holster. But as she followed Harry and Draco out the door, a thought suddenly occurred to her.

Ron. The dinner. _Shit._

"Let me just send an owl to Ron. We were supposed to have dinner at the Burrow in an hour," Hermione sighed. She was absolutely sure she and Ron were going to fight about this the next morning but Hermione realized with a start that she hardly cared.

The two boys nodded their heads before going to their destinations.

* * *

The scent of burning tobacco and mint was the first thing that registered in his consciousness as Lucius Malfoy slowly opened his eyes. He squinted a bit, trying to adjust to the harsh ceiling light. A few seconds passed when he noticed that he's not in the master bedroom at the Manor.

He jerked up into a sitting position but immediately double over when a searing pain shot through underneath his ribcage followed by violent fits of coughing.

Lucius was startled when he felt a hand began rubbing soothing motions across his back and it took him a while to notice that there's a feminine voice speaking to him. The smell of tobacco and mint was now more distinct.

He looked to his side to see none other than Hermione Granger leaning over to him, one hand on his back the other was holding a stick of cigarette. Lucius flinched away at the sudden closeness.

"Are you even allowed to smoke in here?" he frowned at her.

Miss Granger looked at him oddly before noticing the cigarette on her hand. "Oh!" She went over to the window and opened it before chucking the cigarette away.

Lucius pressed his lips together in a firm line. "Where am I?"

"A private ward in St. Mungo's," she said as she plopped down ungracefully onto a chair next to his bed. "I found you lying on a dark alley in Muggle London badly beaten with two stab wounds, one on your chest and one on your stomach. If I had arrived five minutes late, you would've bled to death. Care to tell me what happened, Mr. Malfoy?"

Deliberately ignoring that question, he continued asking her. "Where is Draco?"

"He went back to the Manor to get you some fresh clothes. He'll be back soon," Miss Granger said before running a hand through her hair in frustration. "Look, I need to know what happened so I could file a report."

He waved her off. "There's no need to file a report. I was assaulted and robbed by an armed Muggle, that's all there is to it."

She clicked her tongue and narrowed her eyes towards the wizard.

"None of the money nor the things you're carrying with you were taken and I found your newly purchased wand discarded a few feet away. I checked it and the last spell you used was a stunning spell. I don't think you're stupid enough to use magic in front of Muggles, Mr. Malfoy, no matter how much you hate them or how much your life is in danger. And given the way you brawled with Arthur Weasley back then, I'd say you're also physically capable of defending yourself," the woman crossed her arms under her chest. "Do you want me to hand this case over to someone higher and risk the Ministry bringing you in for questioning, not to mention the press would have a field day about this _or_ ," she said, stressing the last word very precisely, "are you going to answer me?"

Damn the chit and her sharp powers of perception, Lucius cursed internally. He let out a long, slow sigh, and moved his eyes up to meet hers. "I'd rather the Ministry not know of this incident if you would be so kind."

"Why?"

"Because I just got my freedom back, Miss Granger. I don't want those Ministry lackeys breathing down my neck again for something so trivial as this."

"Trivial? You nearly died!" she snapped, and it was Lucius' turn to be surprised. Would she care if he died?

"Well," he said after another long moment of silence, "I didn't. You saved me just in time."

"And only ruined my dinner plans in the process," she muttered sarcastically and looked away, tossing her head in impatience. "No big deal."

Lucius could hardly help but smile at the petulant frown that was now creasing her brow and turning her full lips down in a pout. "My sincerest apologies. But I do hope you would forgo that report altogether."

Miss Granger looked at him in the eye for a moment before shrugging her shoulders. "As if they'll act on it. Even if I decide to file the report, it'll probably take months before they notice it under a mountain of other unattended files."

"That's not new," he had to work very hard to keep from laughing at her—the indignant expression on her face was absolutely fantastic.

"I'm frustrated by the lack of progress!" she continued ranting. "It's been almost three years since the war ended and you'd think that we should've accomplished something by now but no, everyone's still on their post-war euphoria!"

"That's how it is, Miss Granger." Lucius settled back deeper into his bed, letting his muscles relax for the first time since he woke up. "If you wanted to make a change, take it by the helm and steer it yourself—or silently pull the strings behind the curtain and make them do all the work for you," he added the last part as an afterthought.

"You really enjoy playing the political game, don't you?"

"Oh, certainly," his eyes lit up at her comment. "I never would have bothered going into politics if I didn't. It's a fascinating combination of psychology, maneuvering, manipulation, and common sense, which is less common than you might think. Even when I was tied up in unimportant Ministry affairs, I wasn't often bored."

"I always thought it was just about money and power."

"It is, really, but it's not so simple in practice. To a certain extent, it's a game every player is in competition with every other player. It's almost impossible to overestimate the complexity of the playing field. It takes a remarkable strategy to even come close to winning. You need to learn that if you want to have any success around here."

"Huh," she said after digesting it all in. Lucius saw her stretch briefly before mirroring his relaxed position carefully. "And what? You're going to teach me?"

The only telltale sign of his surprise was a small twitch of his brow.

"If you'll have me," he said after a brief moment, smug confidence brimming up in every note of his voice. He could teach her. There was something about this woman in front of him, eyes wide with curiosity and a hunger for knowledge. Behind the slouch insouciance, Lucius could feel the ruthlessness, the ambition.

A potential. A challenge.

He could capitalize on that. Bring the Malfoy name into its previous prestige through her.

"Really?" she frowned. "But why? I'm a Muggleborn."

"There's always an exception to the rule, Miss Granger," he said but it seemed like the wrong answer. Her brows furrowed further as her eyes carefully observed him, calculating. "Let's just say I'm paying a debt long overdue."

"What debt?"

"You saved my son's life."

She raised an eyebrow. "Who says Draco hadn't already paid that debt?"

"Had he?" But the girl merely looked at him, waiting for his answer. Curious. But still. Lucius was hooked now. He wouldn't stop until she says yes. "Well, then, let me express my gratitude for saving me by teaching you how to navigate the intricate web of politics."

She pondered for a moment before giving her answer. "I'll think about it."

It wasn't a yes. But it wasn't an outright no either. He can work with that.

Their discussion was interrupted by three sharp knocks on the door. Hermione eyed him for a moment before making her way towards the door that gently swung open. Draco poked his head in before fully stepping inside the room, carrying a bag probably full of Lucius' necessities. Potter followed Draco and Lucius was surprised to see Narcissa entering the room as well.

"Hey, Hermione," Draco greeted her cheerfully before his eyes landed in his direction. "Oh, you're finally awake!"

Lucius resisted the urge to roll his eyes and turned his attention instead to the other new arrivals. "Mr. Potter, Cissa. It's great to see you."

Potter only nodded his head in acknowledgment while Narcissa went over and sat by the chair Miss Granger recently vacated. "Hello, Lucius. How are you doing?"

"Fine," he waved her off. Lucius didn't want to bruise his ego more by admitting the dull throbbing in his ribs.

"I brought you some clothes, father," Draco said as he dropped the duffel bag at an empty table near the bed. "I also asked the house-elf to bring dinner here."

His son glanced at Miss Granger and Potter before looking around. "On second thought, I'll have to ask the elf to bring an extra table and some chairs."

"Don't worry about that, Draco. I have to get going anyway," Miss Granger stopped him.

"Oh, Hermione. You don't need to leave; the house-elf will arrive in a moment with dinner. You should join us," Narcissa tried to persuade Miss Granger to stay but the young woman shook her head.

"Are you sure 'Mione?" It was Potter who spoke this time. Miss Granger whispered something in his ear and The Boy Who Lived only sighed in resignation before nodding his head. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine, Harry," she said before addressing the rest. "I'm really sorry, Narcissa but I have to head home."

"We must meet again soon when I return from Italy," Narcissa stood and gave the girl a kiss on both cheeks. "Thank you for finding Lucius."

"It's my job," Miss Granger smiled at her then turned to Draco. "Oh, quit the kicked puppy look, Draco. It's never going to work on me."

"Nothing ever works on you, ice queen," his son muttered with an endearing pout.

Miss Granger threw her head back and laughed at that and Lucius had to admit, her laugh, as boisterous as they were, was something he knew he could get used to hearing.

Then she turned her attention to him. Sure, it was just a mere gaze, but it was enough of a reason for a shiver to crawl across his spine.

"Mr. Malfoy," she said, bowing her head a fraction. "Get well soon. And thank you for the enlightening conversation."

Lucius tried to ignore Narcissa's questioning look at Miss Granger's parting words.

* * *

He must've fallen asleep after dinner because his son and Potter were nowhere to be found. Narcissa was sitting beside him reading a book.

"What are you reading?" he asked her, voice a little hoarse from sleep. Narcissa smiled and closed the book, showing him the front cover. It was one of those romantic fiction novels she enjoyed reading. He wrinkled his nose in mock disgust. "You're still reading that?"

"Don't be such a priss, Lucius," she rolled her eyes at him.

Lucius eventually returned the smile. "Where's Draco?"

"He started his shift an hour ago. Harry left with him," she then frowned at him. "You should stop calling him Potter. He's part of the family now."

When Lucius offered nothing but a harrumph in response, Narcissa continued. "He's good for Draco. Hermione as well. I've never seen your son this light and happy."

Lucius looked up at the mention of the witch. "Since when are you on a first-name basis with the Muggleborn girl?"

"Since she saved your son," Narcissa simply replied. "She actually helped me clear out the remaining dark magic in the Lestrange estate last year."

"I'm not surprised. She's an Auror after all, and—from what I've heard from Draco—a very intelligent witch too."

"She is, indeed," Narcissa gave him a look and it took him a moment to realize what she's implying.

"Merlin's wand, Cissa! It's not like that. Don't give me that look!" he shot back, scandalized.

"What look?" The feigned innocence in her tone gave away the fact that she was having fun teasing him. "I'm just agreeing with you. She's young, intelligent, and has certainly grown into a beautiful woman."

Lucius refused to take the bait and kept his mouth firmly shut. For Merlin's sake, the girl was twenty years younger than him—the same age as his son!

But Narcissa prodded on, determined. "What were you two talking about earlier anyway? 'Enlightening conversation'?" she raised a perfect groomed eyebrow at him.

"Just politics," he shrugged.

"Already grooming her, I see."

"Cissa," he warned, sitting up to make his point across that he wanted this conversation to be dropped but the sudden movement had his ribs aching again. He fell back into the bed with a groan.

"Are you okay?" she asked, genuine concern etched in her features. "What happened back there, Lucius? And don't lie to me."

Lucius reached out a hand to her and Narcissa grasped it. "I was attacked."

"By who?"

"There were three of them. Antonin, Rabastan, and someone I don't recognize," Lucius sighed and stared up the ceiling. "I was scouting for a new office for the company when they ambushed me. I hadn't anticipated that they would attack me out in the open, in Muggle London no less. My reflex was slow and I was immediately stunned. I thought for a moment that I was done for. I thought at least the Killing curse would be quick and painless. But then Antonin pulled out a knife instead, the one with the runic engravings."

Narcissa gasped. "Bella's knife."

Lucius nodded. "Rabastan and the unknown wizard beat me up first before Antonin stabbed me twice. He was actually planning on carving the word 'traitor' on my faded Death Eater mark but got spooked by the group of Muggles that passed nearby. I must've passed out before I could even ask for help."

"Oh, Lucius," Narcissa sighed. "Why didn't you tell the Aurors?"

"There's no point in telling them. It would only make Antonin and the others more careful," he said. "It's not safe here, Cissa. You need to stay in Italy until they're captured or killed. They're not going to stop until they've hunted down the ones that defected."

"What about you and Draco?"

"Draco and I will be fine. I've already fixed the wards on the Manor and Draco's either here in the hospital or with Potter and the Granger girl most of the time. He's perfectly safe."

"I'm worried about you, Lucius," Narcissa squeezed his hand tighter. "I know you're a skilled fighter but there are three of them, there might be even more. And Antonin's known to fight dirty."

Lucius smirked as he squeezed his ex-wife's hand in return.

"Then I guess I'll just have to fight dirtier."

* * *

**Present.**

The memories became hazy and eventually faded into a dark mist before Rita Skeeter pulled herself off the pensieve. The Daily Prophet had its own pensieve hidden in the main office. Most people refused to be interviewed and instead gave the newspaper a vial of their memories to view. Rita had to admit that it made her job a lot easier but it was known that memories can be tampered and altered by the owner to their own satisfaction. She glanced at the silvery substance swirling in the metal basin in contemplation before pulling out her notes and quill.

The story the Malfoys had presented her was consistent so far even the ones she had gathered from the people close to them but there was still something nagging at the corner of her mind. Like a huge part of the puzzle missing or left out.

Call it a reporter's intuition.

Rita had been writing stories for the Prophet since her sixth year at Hogwarts when it was still headed by Professor Armando Dippet. She'd nearly got expelled when she submitted an article about the late professor, criticizing his incompetence and lack of initiative to head the school. But the article became a sensation, prompting Dippet to step down from his post and had Albus Dumbledore to replace him.

She realized later on that the trick was exaggerating the facts. People loved gossip and drama as long as they're not the subject of it. Add a little lie here and there and then you'd have people hooked to the story.

But this? There was something off about it. She knew a lie when she saw one, having written a lot of it herself throughout the years.

The only other person who probably knew everything, the only other person who could shed some light on the Malfoys was dead—well, murdered. How utterly convenient for them. This was going to be a lot of work than she initially thought.

Narcissa Black. What secrets your ex-husband and his current wife were hiding?


	10. Cruel for the Sake of Cruelty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited all of the previous chapters. Also added a few minor details.

**[int:[you can be so cruel | royal blood]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uq-MZ0NEPeg)**

Hermione was greeted by the sight of Elphias Doge's photograph on the front page of the Daily Prophet. The Ministry received a backlash when the Education Bill was leaked with most of the populace saying that it's no different from the ones they had proposed back in Fudge's term. The response prompted Doge to step down and had fully endorsed Hermione as the principal writer of the bill. Hermione reached the end of the article, reading Doge's last statement.

_After careful thought and discussion with my staff, I am relinquishing my management of the Education Reform Act. I hope to remain a part of the process, but I won't be working directly with the Ministry anymore. DMLE Head Hermione Malfoy will be managing the bill now and I feel very confident placing the bill in Mrs. Malfoy's capable hands._

A small smile crept up over her face as she flicked the newspaper onto the next page. Getting rid of Doge was the easy part, writing the bill was another different struggle. She'll have to pay a visit to McGonagall and get her opinion on this as well as some of the board of Governors. Theo and Kingsley's opinion of her hinged on the success of this bill.

"Good news?" Lucius said across the table as he took a sip of his Earl Grey, interrupting her thoughts.

"Good," she replied, her smile going wider. " _Very good._ "

"I'm glad."

"How's the expansion going?" she asked, not looking up from the paper. "Is Mr. Higgs still giving you a hard time?"

She heard Lucius sigh. "We can't seem to come to an understanding."

"Then fire him."

"Excuse me?" Lucius sputtered, the tea nearly going to the wrong hole.

Hermione looked up from her paper and gave her husband a condescending look. "You heard me."

"I can't just fire someone because he disagrees with me, Hermione," Lucius scoffed. "That would be counterproductive."

"It is if he's preventing you from achieving your goals."

"William has been in the company before I was even born. He's irreplaceable."

"Everyone's replaceable, Lucius," she shot back.

"Not you, though," he said softly, causing a faint blush to rise to her cheeks.

"Are you going sentimental on me?"

"Must be the old age," he smirked at her.

"Oh please," Hermione rolled eyes at him and returned to reading the paper. "Stop fishing for compliments, husband. Insecurity is very unbecoming of you."

Lucius continued to observe her as she read the paper. Even at twenty-nine, Hermione still looked as beautiful as the day he married her despite a line or two marring her lovely heart-shaped face. After a moment, he set his cup down, picked up a slice of bread, and started buttering it. "Your birthday is coming up in two weeks. You know, I ask every year—"

"And my answer remains the same," Hermione said as she closed the paper and folded it in half, placing it beside their plates of breakfast food. "You've already given me enough gifts, Lucius. I have a room full of dresses, shoes, and jewelry I rarely even wear."

"Well, I thought we could have dinner," he gave her one of his winning smiles. "That way you could wear those said gifts."

She leaned back to her chair and sighed. "Only if it's someplace where nobody will recognize us. I don't want anyone walking up and—"

Lucius raised a hand. "I mean here at home. Just a simple dinner. I'll cook something."

Hermione looked at him as if he had sprouted three heads.

"You remember what happened the last time you tried to cook?" she narrowed her eyes at him. "You nearly burned down half of the Manor. It was just an egg, Lucius."

"Don't exaggerate, dear. That's Rita Skeeter's job," Lucius huffed as he brandished the bread he was holding in Hermione's direction. "And besides, I've been practicing."

"Really?" she cocked an eyebrow. "Why didn't I know it? Winky would've mentioned something."

"It's because the elf doesn't know," he said smugly. "Astoria's been teaching me."

"Astoria?" Hermione's eyes widened. "Since when?"

"Since I almost burned down half of the Manor, as you so bluntly said," Lucius exasperatedly rolled his eyes at her. "I stop by the townhouse every two weeks. Mostly Wednesdays where you're quite busy although Astoria and I haven't practiced for a while now. Something about not feeling well lately. If she didn't look like she was on the verge of death, I'd say she's pregnant."

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek. She promised Draco she wouldn't tell Lucius about the pregnancy yet but maybe she could point her husband in the right direction. "Maybe she is? Not all women react positively to pregnancy. Did Draco check up on her?"

"They said it's probably just a lingering dark curse from one of Astoria's recent project," Lucius shrugged. "Why that woman chose to be a curse breaker, I'll never know. That job is hazardous and doesn't even pay well."

How ironic, Hermione mused as she pursed her lips to prevent herself from saying anything. She could only hope that Draco would get his shit together and find the courage to tell his father about Astoria's condition. He would need all the help he could get.

* * *

Harry woke up feeling like a bludger had hit him squarely in the head. It reminded him of that time when he got knocked off his broom during the Quidditch match in his second year at Hogwarts. He staggered slightly as he stood and made his way downstairs. The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafting from the kitchens was a godsend to his senses.

"And so he rises," Ginny said as Harry crossed the threshold. She grabbed a vial from the cupboard and shoved it in his hands. "Drink. It's a hangover potion."

"Thanks, Gin," Harry murmured as he drank the translucent liquid in one go. The potion took effect immediately, his entire body already felt lighter in an instant. "Oh Merlin, that feels so much better."

"You need to pay for that," Ginny placed a steaming mug of coffee in front of him. "I'm tight on a budget right now and every sickle counts."

Harry rolled his eyes before taking a sip of the coffee. "I'll even treat you to dinner later."

"Deal," Ginny grinned as she placed plates of bacon, eggs, and sausages on the table. They sat across each other and proceeded to eat breakfast with Ginny glancing at Harry now and then. "Seriously, though, Harry. What has gotten into you? I've never seen you that drunk since you and Draco—"

Harry immediately silenced her with a pointed look. Ginny was sure he would've said something if his mouth wasn't full of bacon. But she knew Harry since they were kids. She knew how he tended to keep things to himself. She also knew how to prod those things out of him.

"Look, Harry. I'm worried, okay? You're lucky the Prophet's busy with that leak going on in the Ministry and nobody saw your drunk ass crawling out of The Leaky," Ginny sighed in frustration when Harry only continued to poke and shove the eggs in his plate. "Harry. Did you run into Draco again?"

Harry shook his head no. After a few seconds, he cleared his throat. "It's just something Lucius Malfoy said last night."

 _Oh._ "What did he say?"

"It's nothing," he glanced at the clock hanging above the wall. It was quite early to go to work but he didn't want to talk about what Malfoy Sr. said to him last night. He quickly finished his food and placed the dishes in the sink. Ginny followed his movements like a hawk. "Really, Gin, I'm fine. I'm going to shower and head to work. Owl me what you want for dinner."

Harry turned to go but Ginny caught his hand. "Harry—"

"I'll tell you later," he cut her off, eager to get away but stopped by the door. Harry turned around and smiled at Ginny reassuringly. "You're a good friend, Gin."

Ginny watched him disappear and continued to eat her breakfast.

Seven years ago, Hermione had come knocking into the Burrow where Ginny was currently living at that time. It's must've been important because Hermione was practically unwelcomed in the house since she and Ron broke up.

 _It's Harry,_ she said, eyes wide with worry. _I'm sorry, Ginny but I don't know who to go to anymore._

Grimmauld Place was a mess when they arrived. Empty bottles of firewhiskey littered the floor and there was Harry, sprawled on the couch, passed out from inebriation. Ginny already knew the gist of the story when she'd read the morning paper and saw the news about Narcissa Black's murder.

Ginny stayed with Harry through the ordeal. Even though their ship had sailed long ago, she still loved him dearly. He was her first love, after all, and that kind of love doesn't quickly fade away.

And when Ginny mentioned moving out of the Burrow after she got accepted to the Holyhead Harpies, Harry offered his home to her and they've been living in a comfortable coexistence since. Ginny eventually realized she liked Harry more as a friend than a lover. And besides, there's someone else occupying her attention now.

She can only hope that Harry would eventually move on from Draco and find some semblance of happiness. If there was someone who deserved it, it was definitely Harry.

* * *

The wide yet cluttered expanse of the Auror headquarters was quiet as Dennis Creevey arrived. All the cubicles were still empty save for one on the far end, opposite Robard's office. Dennis tried to remember who it belonged to, but his memory came up short. He still had half an hour before people started trickling in. Plenty of time to head down to the canteen and grab something to eat.

As soon as he stood, the sound of a memo whizzing could be heard, and was shocked to see it landed on his desk. Dennis picked it up and felt his appetite slipped away instantly.

_DoM entrance. Now._ _-B._

The paper disintegrated into ashes as soon as Dennis finished reading it. He chucked his bag inside his desk drawer and made his way to the lifts. Plans of having a nice quiet breakfast were thrown out the window.

* * *

"Is all the paperwork ready?" Lucius asked in his signature haughty drawl. William Higgs had been fidgeting since he sat across Lucius five minutes ago and it had started to grate on his nerves.

The elder wizard cleared his throat before answering. "Some of the more senior staff are trickier. There's severance and—"

"But we shouldn't run into any legal issues?" Lucius cocked an eyebrow.

"No, no. We use at-will employment contracts across the board."

"I want all of the exit interviews done by lunch," Lucius said as he tapped a quill impatiently against his desk. "There's no point in prolonging the inevitable."

"Mr. Malfoy," William sighed. "I just can't help but think that this is a mistake."

"We've discussed this already, William," Lucius leveled his office manager with a stern look.

"I know, I know," William raised his hands placatingly. "But I just have to say it for the sake of my conscience. I think that you are dismantling what your father and grandfather have built for decades and I… I think the way you're handling this is… Is cruel."

Lucius could already feel his temper rising. If he was still the same wizard he was before, he wouldn't hesitate to dole out severe punishment for talking out of turn like that. _Damn, this new world._ He took a deep breath to steady his nerves. "I know it's not easy, William. But it's necessary."

"You have always asked me to be honest with you just like Abraxas and Septimus did. That's how we work together. I disagree with something, I say it. Well, I disagree, 100%. Please, Mr. Malfoy, don't do this."

A moment passed in silence with Lucius contemplating the words to say.

"I respect your opinion, William. And I appreciate you sharing it with me, but I'm not going to change my mind," Lucius waved his hand dismissively. "Call Justin on your way out."

William nodded resignedly before getting up to leave. "If that's what you want."

As the doors to his office closed, Lucius remembered a part of his conversation with Hermione this morning and can't help but consider that maybe his wife was right.

* * *

Dennis Creevey had never set foot inside the Department of Mysteries. It was on the ninth level, the last department, and there's a good reason why. The entire department screamed of secrecy and intrigued. He vaguely remembered a previous Minister for Magic who tried to shut it down but failed miserably and ended up dying due to the pressure of handling it. It prompted the succeeding Minister to grant it a certain level of independence.

Blackness surrounded Dennis as the lifts opened. He could barely spot the black door at the far end of the corridor. Plain black tiles lined the walls, ceiling, and floors while the only source of light was from the torches that were hanging on the walls.

It was a different kind of quiet that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. There was no sign of any employee or Unspeakable and he had to wonder if they adhere to the same working hours as the rest of the Ministry employees.

"Probably not," he muttered. It's probably the reason why Blaise chose this as their meeting place.

A figure stepped out from the shadows, startling Dennis. "Jesus Christ, you scared me."

Blaise gave him a confused look.

"It's a Muggle expression," Dennis lamely explained.

An awkward silence enveloped them before Blaise spoke. "I want you to tail him again. I have a source that says he'll be at the same establishment again tomorrow night."

McLaggen, Dennis thought anxiously. He's going in there again. Sweat started to find its way into his hands.

"Is there another—" he didn't get to finish the sentence because Blaise sent him a cold, hard look.

"Make sure you catch him in the act this time," Blaise grabbed the younger wizard's collar and pulled Dennis's face closer to his. "Don't fuck it up, Creevey, or else," he then shoved Dennis away before turning around to head back to the lift. The unspoken threat ringing in Dennis's mind.

He'll make sure to catch McLaggen this time. One way or another. Dennis just wanted to get Blaise off his back for good. Something in the back of his mind told him it's impossible but he pushed it away.

Dennis waited three minutes before entering the lifts. As the doors were sliding close, he noticed a faint shimmering by the wall near where he and Blaise recently stood but Dennis just chalked it up to the light from the torches producing a glow when it reflected from the tiled walls.

* * *

Hermione felt at home as she walked across the Hogwarts grounds towards the headmaster's office. She hadn't stepped foot inside her alma matter since she became the head of DMLE and the school still looked the same as the last time. The walls and corridors still felt familiar as were the paintings and statues that lined the walls.

"Pixie puffs," Hermione declared to the sapient gargoyle guarding the staircase. McGonagall had carried on Dumbledore's tradition of naming the passwords after sweets when she assumed the position of the headmistress.

The said headmistress was just settling down a pot of tea when Hermione entered the office. "Hello, Minerva."

"Hermione. It's been too long." McGonagall sauntered over and gave the younger witch a tight hug.

"It is," Hermione agreed as she pulled back. McGonagall ushered her to a nearby table and together they sat and caught up with the current events between the Ministry and the school.

After an hour, Hermione finally brought up the reason for her visit: The Education bill. She pulled out her notes from her handbag and handed it to the headmistress.

"This is a major reform. A complete overhaul," McGonagall said as she quickly perused the documents. "This would take more than a month, Hermione."

"I only have days, not months. A week at most," Hermione said before taking a sip of her tea.

"But think about the process."

"That's why I came to you, Minerva. Now I realized it is a difficult task, but we have the opportunity to make history here."

"You would need more than one person to write this bill if you want to finish it within a week," McGonagall said as she placed the notes on the table.

"Who do you suggest?"

"Professor Longbottom and Professor Binns although I'm not sure Cuthbert would be amenable to it. I'll approach Madam Pince too. We will need her extensive knowledge about the library's contents," McGonagall pondered for a moment. "Why isn't Lucius helping you with this bill? He's more well versed than I am when it comes to the laws regarding the school."

"He's going to help too, but he wouldn't be directly involved. Only as a consultant," Hermione answered. "A lot is going on his company right now, and I don't want to burden him with other matters. Not if I can help it."

McGonagall sighed as she picked up her tea. "Well, you're lucky the school term isn't starting in a week else accomplishing this would've been nearly impossible."

Hermione smiled. "Indeed, I am."

* * *

Lucius saw the last employee leave the conference room hunched over and sniffling. He waited a few more minutes in case someone returned before he entered the room. William was arranging a pile of documents as Lucius sat down across the elder wizard. "How did it go?"

"There were a few tears here and there and some anger," William sighed. "But nothing unexpected."

There was a heavy silence as Lucius pondered over his next words.

"I'm going to need you to leave us today too, William," at this, the elder wizard looked up in shock. "I just can't have anyone doubting about the direction I'm taking."

"You just had me fire over twenty people," William said incredulously.

"I know," Lucius said calmly. It was harder to do this than he initially thought. William had dedicated most of his life to the Malfoy business and had no wife and children. It felt like betraying a family member.

"I'm 74 years old. Nobody hires anybody my age. I—"

"You will be hugely compensated. And if you still want to work, I will write you any kind of recommendation—"

"To do what? Sweep the floors in some shop at Diagon Alley?"

"I'm sorry, William, truly—"

"No, you're not. You don't give a fuck!" he seethed. "You became different after you married that Mudblood whore. Your father and grandfather may be dark wizards but at least they took care of their own!"

At the mention of the M word, Lucius finally snapped. His hands slammed down the long table shaking some of the neatly piled documents. "GET OUT! Don't you ever dare show your face to me!" he bellowed.

"Your father wouldn't hesitate to kill me this instant for this disrespect. You've always been a coward, Lucius, and one day, you will bring this company to ruins."

William abruptly pushed his chair back and fled the room before Lucius could say anything. When the doors forcefully slammed shut, Lucius pulled out his wand and destroyed every piece of furniture in the room until his anger dissipated, leaving a hollow, numbing feeling in the pit of his stomach.


	11. The Reckoning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: brief descriptions of sexual violence.

**[int:[line of fire | junip]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VL6inz4WPhQ)**

Hermione woke up to a cold, unused space beside her. One of her hands slid through the smooth, untouched sheets on the other side of the bed as she wondered why Lucius stayed up through the night. It wasn’t that unusual of him to pull an all-nighter when presented with a mountain of work especially now that his company was expanding.

But Hermione realized something was wrong when she received an owl from his secretary instead of flooing her directly like he always did. _Mr. Malfoy won’t be making it to dinner,_ was the only message. No matter how busy he was, Lucius always found the time to tell her personally about his plans.

And when he eventually came home at half-past ten, he only gave her a peck on the cheek and then locked himself in his study for the entire night.

The only other time Lucius acted this distant with her was when Narcissa was murdered. Hermione understood why, of course. It was a dark time for everyone including her. But right now, she couldn’t think of a reason why her husband would act this way.

A soft pop of apparition interrupted her thoughts. Winky stood by the door with her head slightly bowed.

“Breakfast is ready, Mistress.”

Hermione got up and put on a dressing gown. “Is Lucius still home?”

“Master never left the study, Mistress,” the elf replied.

After dismissing the elf, Hermione made her way to Lucius’ study. The door was unlocked and unwarded this time, thankfully. She peered around the room before stepping inside. Hermione found Lucius slumped in his chair, an empty bottle of firewhiskey sat beside his paperwork. Something was definitely bothering him.

Even in his sleep, he looked troubled. Hermione pushed away a few strands of blond hair from his face. Lucius stirred at the touch before his eyes eventually opened. Hazy grey eyes met worried brown ones.

“What’s wrong, my dear?” Lucius asked. His voice was hoarse from sleep.

“I should be the one asking that,” Hermione pursed her lips. “What’s going on, Lucius?”

“Nothing is going on, Hermione,” he then eyed the mountain of paperwork on his desk. “Well, unless you count these documents I have to review and sign for the expansion.”

It’ll take more than that to fool her. Hermione perched herself on his lap as her hands ran across his chest in a soothing manner. This close, she can smell the remnants of alcohol he consumed last night mixed with the scent of his unique cologne. “What happened yesterday? Are you alright?”

“I had to fire half of my staff including William who had worked for Malfoy Industries for over fifty years. Of course, I’m not alright,” he snapped. Hermione tensed for a moment and looked away, finally understanding what was troubling him. Lucius sighed and instinctively settled both his hands around her waist. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take my frustration out on you.”

He then laid his head on her shoulder, inhaling her scent as Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck in a comforting gesture. “Don’t be,” she whispered, feeling some guilt settling in the pit of her stomach. Hermione had been so distracted with the Education Bill lately that she didn’t notice how the expansion of his company had taken its toll on him. Maybe she shouldn’t bother him with the bill altogether. Hermione thought of reaching out to Susan Bones for help instead. “Let’s take the day off. We can go do something.”

She felt Lucius shook his head against her shoulder. “No, no. You need to finish the bill.”

“I can do it later,” she argued. “It’s Friday anyway. I can pore over it in the weekend with Neville and Minerva.”

He pulled back and stared resolutely in her eyes. “Finish the bill.”

“Lucius—”

Lucius cut her off with a quick kiss. “We can go do something later after work. I have a lot of things to do right now anyway. Owls to send, papers to sign, a room to renovate…”

Hermione perked up at the mention of the former drawing-room. “How’s the renovation going?”

“Just a few more wards to add and it should be done,” he shrugged then gave her a tired yet happy smile. “It’s quite a spacious room for a potions laboratory so I had to make some adjustments.”

“Can’t wait to see it,” she murmured. Hermione then pushed herself off his lap before holding out a hand to him. “Come on. Winky has prepared breakfast.”

Lucius clasped her hand in him and together they made their way to the dining room. Hermione realized that something was still bothering him when he didn’t place a kiss on the back of her hand in reassurance like he usually did.

* * *

Harry woke up with a start when someone yanked the Invisibility cloak off him. He looked up to see Dean stifling a giggle while holding his cloak.

“Blimey, Dean!” Harry said as he snatched his cloak back. “How’d you know I was under it?”

“There’s a flaw in your cloak, mate,” Dean replied. “It slightly shimmers in the dim light. It’s not really that noticeable but it’s there if you look closely or if you’re observant enough.”

“Really?” Harry said incredulously. “When did you realize this?”

“I didn’t. It was actually Robards,” Dean scratched the back of his ear as he smiled at Harry sheepishly.

“What?”

“He told me to come and get you for a briefing. When I told him that you weren’t in your desk, he said that you were under the Invisibility cloak sleeping,” Dean explained. “Sorry, mate.”

“No, no it’s okay,” Harry then let out a breath. “Bloody hell! He knew all this time? Why hadn’t he accosted me or something?”

“You’re Robards favorite,” Dean said. “You’re the only one who listens to his drunk stories after work.”

“Some of it was fun though.”

“Yeah, only if you hadn’t heard it for the millionth time,” Dean snickered. “Come on, then. Let’s not keep him waiting.”

Harry stashed his cloak in his drawer before following Dean into the war room. “What’s on the agenda?”

“Something about the anonymous package sender. My guess is we’ll be raiding an establishment in Knockturn Alley tonight. That’s where it usually ends.”

The doors to the war room creaked heavily as Dean pushed it wide open. Harry ducked his head in embarrassment when he realized everyone was waiting for him.

“Look who finally decided to grace us with his presence,” Talbott Winger sneered. “I hope you got a good rest, Potter. We won’t be getting any later.”

“Quiet down children,” Robards hollered. “Take a seat, Potter. I want this done and over with. I have a meeting with the Minister and the DMLE Head in fifteen minutes to keep them up-to-date about this blasted case.”

Harry sent Talbott a withering glare before settling down across Seamus who grinned at him in greeting. There were only six of them in the room including Robards himself which made Harry slightly curious. Robards usually sent out a minimum of ten Aurors for every raid regardless of the locale. He’d learned the hard way when a sting operation to catch rogue Death Eaters six years ago went haywire and a civilian was murdered in the process. Narcissa Black’s bloodied lifeless body still haunted Harry’s dreams every night.

“I want this as quick and quiet as possible that’s why I’m only sending the five of you,” Robards looked at each of their faces sternly. “You’ll be going to The Mockingbird tonight.”

“The Mockingbird? Isn’t that Madam Palmer’s brothel?” Seamus piped up.

“I don’t even want to know how you know that, Finnegan,” Talbott mocked.

“Can it, Winger! I’m not in the mood today,” Robards hissed then glanced at Seamus. “Yes, Finnegan, it’s the brothel in Knockturn Alley. I received a tip yesterday saying it’s where the culprit gets his exploding packages. It says in the letter that they usually rent a room there for a transaction.”

“How reliable is the tip? It could be someone messing with us,” Anthony Goldstein, a former Ravenclaw in Harry’s year, asked.

“Could be but I’d rather risk it,” Robards sighed. “This is the only lead we had so far and to be frank with you, I’m nearing the end of my patience with this case so I’ll take this over nothing.”

“How would we know who it is?” Dean questioned. “There’s probably a ton of customers there every night.”

“That’s why I want you to observe the place first. Inspect every room. The culprit might not be acting alone. Anyone that looks suspicious, I want you to bring them in.”

“We’re going to watch people shag,” Seamus muttered. “Absolutely splendid.”

* * *

Rita Skeeter sighed contentedly as she sipped her tea while her chief editor and colleague Barnabas Cuffe sat across her, eating a club sandwich. It was one of those days where news was slow in the Wizarding World and they were afforded the leisure to eat lunch outside the office. The staff at the Daily Prophet had been a regular at Rosa Lee Teabag’s teashop in Diagon Alley for years now since they’ve relocated.

“You still won’t tell me your source?” Barnabas asked.

Rita arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow at her boss. “Which do you want: my source or my integrity?”

Barnabas scoffed at her as he wiped a few crumbs off his mouth. “Come now, Rita. Don’t act all high and mighty to me just because you finally switched over to the other side.”

“I’m not acting anything. I really can’t tell you even if I wanted to.”

“Unbreakable Vow? You know how to wiggle your way out those things.”

“No, it’s not it,” Rita hesitated, the bubble of peace surrounding her dissipated in an instant. “I just can’t. This is big, Barnabas, really big. And I can’t afford to mess this up.”

Barnabas noticed the slight tension in her countenance. “Morgana’s tits! What have you gotten yourself into this time? Is it anyone in the Ministry?”

Rita Skeeter was saved from answering when an unfamiliar owl came swooping inside the teashop and landed gracefully on their table, missing her teacup by an inch. The owl lifted its leg out to her where a scroll was tied up. She pulled it gently and fed the owl small pieces from her sandwich before sending it on its way. Rita unfurled the scroll and noticed that the handwriting was also unfamiliar as the owl that carried it.

> _The Mockingbird, tonight. Bring all your friends. _

The word ‘friends’ was highlighted and Rita understood the message clearly. Something was about to go down tonight and the sender wanted all the press there. She normally didn't share her scoop but for this case, she would make an exception.

“What is it?” Barnabas tried to get a glimpse of the letter’s contents but Rita immediately tucked it in the pocket of her robes.

“A story,” she smiled mischievously.

* * *

Hermione had just finished writing the third section of their Education Bill when Blaise entered her office. He stood by the door and already had his robe and sling bag on.

“You’re staying?” he asked.

She glanced at the clock hanging above the fireplace in her office and noticed that it was half-past seven. Hermione cracked her knuckles before settling her quill aside.

“I didn’t realize it was late,” she replied as she felt her neck and back ached for being hunched over her desk the entire afternoon. Maybe she should start working out again. Hermione had missed the rigorous training she had during her Auror trainee years.

“What’s new?” Blaise smiled at her. “How did the meetings go?”

“Well, Robards is sending out a team tonight. Apparently, they received a tip yesterday about this mysterious package sender. Kingsley wanted to keep a tight lid about this raid so Robards is only sending out five of his best.”

“And the meeting with Longbottom and the Headmistress?”

“So far so good. We might get the first draft of the Education Bill done by Tuesday if nothing big happens over the weekend.”

“Let’s hope so,” Blaise concurred. “By the way, Penelope and I are going to head out for a drink at the Leaky. Do you want to join?”

Hermione shook her head. “I think I’ll pass this time. I still need to write down some of Neville’s suggestions.”

Blaise nodded. “Don’t stay up too long. It’s Friday,” he said before leaving.

She waited until Blaise’s footsteps faded before pulling a piece of parchment out of her pocket. It was the anonymous tip Robards received yesterday. Hermione lightly ran a finger over the paper, tracing the familiar messy scribble over and over. She had seen this handwriting for nearly two decades, ever since she was eleven. It had slightly changed over the years but it was unmistakable to whom it belonged.

“Oh, Harry. What have you been up to?”

* * *

“You look fine, mate. C’mon. Seamus and the others are already there.”

Dean watched as Harry checked himself for the last time in the window’s reflection of one of the passing shops before making their way inside Knockturn Alley.

Due to Harry’s notoriety as The Boy-Who-Lived, Robards thought it best if Harry drank a Polyjuice potion before heading into the seediest part of the Wizarding community. They would risk suspicion if one person instantly recognized him. This was a covert operation after all.

The Mockingbird was an upscale brothel located near the end of Knockturn Alley. It was richly furnished with fine tapestries, curtains, and artwork. Harpers serenaded the common rooms with background music, and there was a bar that served fine food and wine. Madam Palmer had her brothel cater to every taste, staffed both male and female prostitutes, either of which would provide pleasure to men or women if the customer was so inclined.

Dean heard rumors about it when he first started working for the Ministry that on rare occasions, Madam Palmer had been known to discretely accommodate more unusual "inclinations" as a private favor to powerful clients who can pay a very high price. As to what those “inclinations” were, Dean had no idea.

They both spotted Seamus, Talbott, and Anthony as they entered, sitting by the bar nursing a drink while talking to two women, probably enticing the trio to rent a room. Seamus subtly nodded his head in their direction.

“You boys looked new,” they heard a sultry voice spoke. A woman in silk red robes with flowery patterns strode towards them. She reached out a hand and caressed Dean’s left cheek. “Not much of a rind on you. Are you guys looking for something?” the woman purred.

“We’re actually just… looking,” Harry answered. “Just browsing.”

“Ohh, a spectator, I see,” the woman smiled mischievously between the two. Dean glanced at Harry in confusion. “Why don’t you two wait upstairs? Room eleven. We’ll send a couple of girls and boys—we don’t discriminate,” she winked knowingly in their direction. “in a few minutes and you can take your pick from there. How about that?”

The two nodded their heads vigorously and bolted upstairs as soon as the woman disappeared. Harry cleared his throat loudly when they passed by the other three and they soon followed. Keeping a respectable distance as to not arouse suspicion.

Dean counted exactly twelve rooms as they walked across the dimly lit hallway. “How exactly are we going to find this guy?” he whispered.

“Or guys,” Seamus said. “There could be two of them or more.”

“Look, there’s a peephole on the doors,” Anthony pointed.

“Eugh,” Talbott grimaced. “I’m not going to look at people fucking.”

“Nor do I,” Seamus said looking a bit green. “Talbott and will stand guard here by the top landing in case the woman comes back.”

“It’s always us who has to do the labor,” Harry rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’ll take doors one to four. Goldstein, you look at five to eight while Dean checks the last four. And make it fast.”

Dean begrudgingly walked to the far end of the hallway. Room nine was empty and so was eleven since they were supposed to occupy the latter while room ten was just some old guy having a threesome with two women. He felt his trousers tighten a bit at the obscene display before him.

He eventually tore his eyes away and proceeded to go check the last door. Dean couldn’t help but think that this raid was pointless and they’ll never catch the guy—whoever he is.

“I think I’ll have to bleach my eyes after this,” Dean muttered as he placed both palms on door twelve and leaned towards the peephole. “What the fuck?”

He peeked just in time to see Cormac McLaggen dragged the bloodied and bruised girl back towards the bed. The girl was saying something and Dean realized that the rooms were surrounded with privacy charms, preventing any noise from coming out. He watched as McLaggen continued to beat the girl mercilessly before forcing himself upon her. When the girl tried to fight back McLaggen conjured a rope and tied her to the headboard. Dean could only watch in horror as McLaggen thrust roughly in and out while a hand gripped the girl’s neck tightly, suffocating her.

Dean couldn’t take it anymore. He pulled out his wand and blasted the door open. McLaggen was startled as ropes sprouted around and bounded him. “Hey!”

“You sick fuck!” Dean pounced on his former schoolmate and landed punch after punch. It was seconds later when he was pulled off by Anthony and Seamus but Dean kept thrashing, trying to get his hands on McLaggen

“Stop it, Dean. You’re going to kill him,” Seamus said looking more green than before.

Dean noticed Harry and Talbott were beside the girl checking for a pulse. After a moment, Harry then shook his head. “She’s dead.”

“What’s the meaning of this? That is a VIP client!”

All heads turned to the source of the sound to see the woman Dean and Harry talked to earlier standing by the door, a look of extreme panic gracing her features.

“This is a Ministry sanctioned operation,” Harry stood and showed his badge to the woman. “Where is the owner of this place?”

“Madam Palmer is indisposed and has tasked me to manage the place for tonight.”

“Then send word to Madam Palmer and tell her she is being summoned by the Ministry now.”

The woman frantically nodded before fleeing, leaving them alone again.

“I wasn’t trying to kill her," McLaggen tried to plead. His left eye was bruised shut while his nose and lower lip were profusely bleeding. "I swear! It was an acci—”

“Shut the fuck up!” Talbott punched McLaggen in the face before hauling him up. Harry conjured a robe from the stained bedsheet to cover McLaggen’s naked body.

They all proceeded to head out the door with Dean being the last one to leave and as he walked to the door, something shimmering on the corner of the room caught his eye. He stayed inside under the pretext of investigating more when he suddenly remembered his brief conversation with Harry about invisibility cloaks and its flaws.

Dean took a deep breath, swiftly turned around, and shot a stunning spell in the direction of the glint he noticed earlier. There was a loud thud and Dean was shocked to see it was the Auror trainee Dennis Creevey holding a muggle camera.

“Dean, what took you so—wait, is that the trainee?” Seamus said as Dean caught up with the others, a stunned Creevey floating behind him. "Where the hell did you find him?"

“He was in corner of the room hiding,” Dean explained as he handed Harry his invisibility cloak. “I believe he stole this from you.”

“This night just kept getting weirder,” Anthony huffed as he and Talbott dragged McLaggen across the lobby. Employees and other patrons of the brothel were huddled to the side, afraid of being arrested too.

Flashes of light blinded them as soon as they stepped out the entrance door. Reporters from every publication all clamored to get a statement out of them.

“Bloody hell! How did they know we’re here?” Anthony hissed.

“One of the staff probably talked,” Harry said. “C’mon we need to go. Seamus, contact Mungo’s immediately and notify them about a deceased body. Dean, go help Talbott and Anthony take care of Creevey and him,” Harry jerked a thumb in McLaggen’s direction. “I need to notify Robards immediately.”

Harry then disappeared followed by Seamus.

“I was joking when I said earlier that we wouldn’t get any sleep,” Talbott grumbled as he side-along apparated Dean, Anthony, Creevey, and their bounded prisoner back to the Ministry’s holding cell.

* * *

It was half-past ten when Hermione placed down her quill and called it a night. The floo to the Malfoy library flared a vibrant green before she stepped through, silently cursing as she brushed off the soot lining her favorite plum-colored robe. Hermione hated traveling by floo and only did so when she was eager to get home.

After hanging her robe and placing her bag on her desk, Hermione headed out in search of her husband only to come face to face with Corban Yaxley in the hallway leading to the former drawing-room Lucius was renovating.

“Madam Malfoy,” Yaxley nodded stiffly in greeting. “A pleasant evening.”

Hermione wanted to ask the older wizard if he was sure about that. His face looked like he stepped on a huge pile of hippogriff dung. “Mr. Yaxley,” she returned the greeting. “I didn’t know we will be having a guest tonight.”

“I just came by to deliver something to your husband and was on my way out,” he tersely said.

“I better not keep you waiting then,” Hermione smiled demurely at the sour-looking wizard. “A pleasure running into you, Mr. Yaxley. Have a pleasant evening as well.”

Corban Yaxley strode out without so much as a glance in her direction and Hermione released a huff of breath in frustration. Some people were really way beyond redemption.

She continued her trek to the former drawing-room. Hermione knocked thrice before slowly pushing the double doors open. It seemed her husband had outdone himself this time. She was greeted by rows of shelves containing vials of ingredients for brewing potions as well as books about potions making. The floor-to-ceiling windows were replaced by walls, enveloping the room in total darkness with only torches of light lining every protruding columns and the chandelier connected to the high ceiling served as lighting. In the middle of the room was a workstation good for at least four people. Hermione noticed there were runes etched around it.

Lucius’ back was to her and Hermione was mesmerized by the play of muscles through his flimsy shirt as he grounded something into the mortar.

“I love what you’ve done to the place,” she said as she came up behind him, encircling her arms around his waist. “I don’t recognize the room anymore.”

“That’s the point,” Lucius replied. He squeezed her hands before going back to what he was doing.

Hermione peeked over his side at what he was doing, noting the ingredients strewn across the table. “Fluxweed, knotgrass, lacewing flies, boomslang skin… are you making a Polyjuice potion?”

“An astute observation, my dear.”

Hermione buried her face in his back as she hugged him tighter. “Mm umnt mppreciate mm mrcasm (I don't appreciate the sarcasm),” her husband’s answering chuckle was a soothing balm to her exhausted soul. She eventually pulled away and settled beside him. “What was Corban Yaxley doing here?”

“Just delivering some stewed lacewing flies,” Lucius said nonchalantly as he waved a bottle of said ingredient in front of her.

“Is that all?” when he only gave a noncommittal shrug, Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. “Lucius…”

“I just love it when you use that tone on me,” he purred. “Like I'm about to be sent to detention for misbehaving.”

“You _are_ misbeha—Lucius!” she shrieked when he lifted and placed her on the table, gently pushing the ingredients aside. “What are you doing?!”

Lucius wedged himself between her thighs before trailing wet kisses along her jaw down to the pulse point in her neck. “Have I been a naughty boy, Mistress?” he whispered underneath her ear.

Hermione couldn’t help the moan escaping her throat at his ministrations. The questions she had were immediately pushed to the back of her mind replaced by an aching need for her husband. Her hands quickly worked on the buttons of his shirt desperate to feel his skin while Lucius worked on the zipper of her skirt.

She couldn’t help but marvel at how fine Lucius looked even at the age of fifty-five. He may have gotten a bit thick around the middle but it was nothing compared to the majority of his peers. Nothing a continuous exercise wouldn’t remedy. Maybe she could ask him to work out with her in their free time.

As her hands traveled to his trouser, finally about to unbutton her most anticipated prize, a rapid knock on the door interrupted them.

“What?!” she snarled. This should better be important or somebody will definitely get an earful from her. Beside her, Lucius was shaking with uncontrolled laughter.

They heard a whimper from the other side and realized with a start that Hermione must've terrified their poor elf.

“You may come in, Winky,” Lucius said softly and then turned to Hermione. “Must you really scare the elf?”

She ducked her head in embarrassment as Winky handed a letter to her. The elf disappeared immediately with a small pop and Hermione made a mental note to apologize soon to the house-elf once everything was sorted out. “It’s from Kingsley,” she said as she tore open the seal and read the contents as fast as her eyes would allow.

Lucius tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “What does Kingsley want this time? He knows it’s a Friday night, right?”

“He’s summoning me back to the Ministry. Something happened with the raid,” she leaned her head against Lucius' bare chest. Hermione listened to his steady heartbeat as she closed her eyes, willing everything, save for the two of them, to disappear for a moment. “So much for a quiet weekend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lost the outline I made for this story so it took me a while to write this chapter. But I'm finally on track now (I guess? lol)
> 
> I'd love to know what you guys think! Kudos and comments are very much appreciated.


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